


The Inquisitor's List

by kethni



Category: The Bill (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, F/M, M/M, request
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-05
Updated: 2019-04-05
Packaged: 2020-01-05 08:10:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 37,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18362042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kethni/pseuds/kethni





	1. Chapter 1

 

 

**_'To choose a good book, look in an inquisitor's prohibited list. ~ John Aikin'_ **

 

 

There is nothing noticeably wrong when Craig walks into his flat. Nothing obviously out of place, nothing missing, and nothing there that shouldn't be.

 

A little something prickles in his subconscious. Some slight wrongness in the air that his conscious mind interprets as a touch of chilliness. He rubs his hands together briskly, and walks into the kitchen to turn the kettle on. He drops a tea bag into a large, white china cup and opens the fridge.

 

The man's disembodied head has been placed on the middle shelf of the fridge. The thermostat has been turned to the maximum and ice glitters on the long, dark lashes framing his pale blue eyes.

 

***

 

**Two Weeks Previous**

 

The tall, thirty-something, redheaded woman leaves the naked blond man tied to the bed, and walks into the hallway to answer the ringing phone.

 

“DI Safardin.”

 

“Ma'am, we've got a body in the river. IC1 male, approximately twenty years old, trussed up with netting.”

 

“Not even my birthday.” Jane perches on the telephone seat and begins unlacing her boots.

 

“Forensics is here, and we've cordoned off the area. Reporters are starting to buzz around.”

 

“Right. There in forty.”

 

“See you soon, Ma'am,” Luke says cheerfully.

 

Jane wanders back into the bedroom, and finishes unlacing her boots.

 

“Got to go.”

 

“Hzergalmff?”

 

Jane unbuckles the strap and pulls out the ball-gag.

 

“Been called in.”

 

“Oh. You're coming back though, aren't you?”

 

“Don't know when.” Jane unties his wrists, and then carries on getting changed.

 

“I don't mind waiting,” he says hopefully.

 

“Go on, get home.” She pats his bottom affectionately. “Another time.”

 

***

 

DC Luke Ashton raises his eyebrows.

 

“Sorry, Ma'am, did I interrupt something interesting?”

 

“What?” She looks herself up and down.

 

Luke waves his hand at his face. “That's more make-up than you normally wear as a matter of course.”

 

Jane pulls out a tissue and quickly blots her lipstick.

 

“Better?”

 

“I… guess so.”

 

“Shut up then and show me this body.”

 

She follows Luke over to a makeshift tent by the riverside.

 

“You took your time,” the pathologist complains. “I've got a plate of bolognaise going cold back at base.”

 

“Is that right, Louis? I've got a twenty three year old fireman going to waste,” Jane retorts.

 

“Shouldn't that be your line?” he asks Luke.

 

“Him? A hot twenty three year old fireman? You must be joking.” Jane leans over the recovered corpse, and purses her lips thoughtfully. “He's one of those weirdos who likes an older partner.”

 

“Completely unlike the twenty three year old fireman, then,” Luke says tartly.

 

“So, um,” Louis flashes Luke a bright smile. “Do you…”

 

“Oi! Dead body, remember?” Jane snaps.

 

“Er, yeah. Caucasian male, between twenty and twenty five years old. Probably the earlier end of the scale. He's been in the water about three weeks, probably killed around the same time. He was dressed, but the clothing has rotted away. See, there are still strands clinging to parts of the body? He seems to be barefoot, there are no strands there, and it's unlikely that shoes would rot completely in so short a time. Forensics will have a better idea. I won't be able to give you a definitive cause of death here, I'll know more once I've done the post mortem.”

 

“That it?”

 

“There's a large wound to his throat, and a corresponding wound to the back of the head. Could be a bullet, but I'll know more…”

 

“When you've done the post mortem,” Jane and Luke chime along with him.

 

“Yes,” he mutters.

 

“Right, wrap him up and pop him in a doggy bag. We'll take him to go,” Jane announces, sweeping out of the tent.

 

“Forensics is over here,” Luke says, leading her over to a skinny man in a white paper boiler suit. He is sealing green netting inside plastic. 

 

“Are you sure you didn't just drag me out here to protect you from your favourite pathologist?”

 

“He creeps me out,” Luke mutters. “I don't know whether to be grateful that you stopped him from asking me out, or annoyed that you told him I like older men.”

 

“Do both, multitask! Has he come out of the tent to moon after you?”

 

Luke risks a quick casual glance back. “Yeah.”

 

She reaches over and squeezes his bottom. “That'll get his engine running.”

 

“A stall might be more helpful,” Luke grumbles.

 

“Are you quite finished?” the forensics officer asks. “Or should I wait for you to taunt Louis some more?”

 

Jane blows out her cheeks and shrugs. “Hi, George. Well, my evening's already been ruined, but I don't especially want to spend what's left of it farting about in the mud. Cough up the goods then.”

 

“Thanks a million,” he says sourly. “Well, obviously, there are no tracks worth a damn since it's been weeks since the body was dumped. We might have better luck with the corpse, remains of the clothing, the netting that was used. If we can ever get Louis' sticky hands off the poor sod.”

 

“There's an image to haunt a person's dreams,” Jane says with a shudder. “Thank you boys for a _lovely_ evening, but I'm going home. Luke, next time take me someplace nice, okay? Candlelight, flowers on the table, the whole ball of wax.”

 

“Yes, Ma'am.”

 

“Why've you been called out anyway? Wasn't Irfan on call?”

 

“His wife went into labour,” Luke says with a shrug. “They called me instead.”

 

“Bugger,” Jane says with feeling. “Oh, is that what you were doing?”

 

“Mind your own business.”

 

“I don't want to see you tomorrow before ten, okay? Go and get some sleep,” Jane instructs.

 

“Yes, Ma'am.”

 

She kisses him on the forehead, and goes to her car.

 

George taps his own forehead. “You have lipstick, just there.”

 

“She's always doing that.” Luke takes the proffered tissue and cleans off his forehead. “Normally she's not wearing enough lipstick for it to stick.”

 

“Sexual harassment in the workplace is a terrible thing,” George says sombrely. 

 

“I'm a martyr to it. I'm off home anyway. Can you email me with your preliminary report?”

 

“Will do.”

 

***

 

There is a hastily composed, but gloriously filthy letter slipped under Jane's door. She gets a glass of wine, and reads in bed.

 

There is a tacky, colourful advert for the local pizza parlour wedged into Luke's letterbox. He shoves it straight into the bin, and has a mug of hot chocolate before bed.

 

***

 

Luke is at his desk and eating a croissant when Jane arrives.

 

“Oi! I told you not to be in before ten.”

 

“It's a minute past,” Luke says mildly.

 

“Is it? Blast, my watch has stopped.” Jane hands him a cappuccino and sits down.

 

“Good job I'm in or it would've been cold.”

 

“I knew that you'd be in, you little swot. Forensics report in?”

 

“Only the prelim, I've emailed it to you,” Luke answers, sipping his coffee.

 

“Have you read it?” Jane asks sweetly.

 

“In the one minute that I've been here?”

 

“Smart arse.”

 

***

 

“You're going to love this,” Louis snickers.

 

“I doubt it,” Luke mutters, listening in boredom to an engaged tone on the telephone.

 

“Your John Doe's stomach contents: chicken curry, naan bread, several lagers, with semen for dessert.”

 

“No onion bhajis?”

 

“Must've been on a diet,” Jane rolls her eyes at Luke.

 

“Sugars, protein, and vitamin C,” Luke says dryly. “And that's just the semen.”

 

“Yummy.”

 

“It gets better,” Louis promises. “We got a useable DNA sample from the semen, and it's been matched.”

 

Luke pulls the folder from him and hands it to Jane.

 

“That's fast, in the old days we used to wait days. Have you finished the autopsy then?”

 

“Not completely…”

 

Jane raises her eyebrows at Louis. “Don't let us keep you; you must have other miracles and wonders to perform.” She waves a hand at him.

 

Luke starts talking into the phone, and waves a hand as Louis slinks away.

 

“You're having a conversation with the engaged tone, aren't you?”

 

“Uh, yes Ma'am.”

 

Jane shakes her head as she opens the file. “He's a man. Hints and avoidance aren't going to do it. You're going to have to bite the bullet sometime.”

 

“I don't wanna,” Luke says firmly.

 

“You know what I mean.” Jane pulls out a colour printout. “If this reconstruction of his face is accurate then he was a good looking lad.”

 

“Yeah,” Luke says quietly.

 

“Oh, hey, Sun Hill.”

 

“Huh?”

 

Jane waves the folder at him. “Our sperm donor is _not_ a criminal. They got it from the police database not the criminal database. He's an ex-copper.”

 

“He shouldn't still be on the database then,” Luke points out. “They won't need to eliminate his DNA from crime scenes any more.”

 

“No, now they use it to identify him. He's from Sun Hill, just like you Linus.”

 

Luke rolls his eyes, and takes the folder from her. “When was he at Sun Hill? The place only really went to hell around 2003, and the turnover tended to be on the high side even before that.”

 

“Bribery, corruption, murders, suicide, stabbings, drug dealing coppers. Sun Hill was quite the show piece.” Jane waits a few moments and throws a balled up piece at his head. “Hey! You okay?”

 

“This could be a problem,” Luke says slowly. He raises the folder slightly, but continues staring at it. “Could be, um, a conflict of interest.”

 

“Friend, family, or fuck buddy?”

 

“First man I ever…first man, first time,” Luke says quietly.

 

“Ah, ‘the one’. Yes?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“You’re not still in touch with him?” she asks.

 

“No.”

 

Jane makes a winding motion with a pencil. “And…?”

 

“I've not spoken to him since he left Sun Hill. That was twelve years ago,” he says flatly.

 

“No texts, no emails?”

 

“No, nothing, no. I've not had any contact with him since then,” Luke says, exasperated.

 

“We'll play it by ear,” she decides. “Putting aside your ego for a minute, is he likely to remember you?”

 

“I think so,” Luke says wryly.

 

“Might be a positive, if he's our guy then unsettling him could be helpful.” She leans over and pats his hand. “If you end up screwing him then make it for pure lust, okay? If you get mushy over a suspect, then I have to fill in bloody forms in triplicate before I can kick your arse about it.”

 

“I'll bear that in mind, Ma'am.”

 

***

 

“It's number eighteen,” Luke says as they walk along the winding street. “Wow, it must be that one.”

 

“The Tudor one?” Jane asks, raising her eyebrows.

 

The half-timbered house with its tar covered beams and lime washed walls, stands out among the brick and concrete. Sloping and uneven between the ramrod buildings, orderly and neat, between the cluttered and chaotic.

 

There are shelves and bookcases visible through the narrow casement windows. The shop sign reads 'The Inquisitors List'.

 

“Nice to see your ex has enough imagination not to call it 'Ye Olde Booke Shoppe',” Jane says approvingly. She looks at him sideways. “You okay?”

 

“Fine,” Luke says tightly. He pushes open the shop door, setting a little bell jangling at the end of a spring. They merit barely a glance from the patrons; mostly student types in jeans and t-shirts beneath woolly jumpers and coats.

 

The weathered pine shelves are full of old books with creamy, soft pages and leather covers hardened almost to wood. The smell of old paper and floor polish fills the air.

 

Jane idly runs a finger along the spotlessly clean shelves as they walk further in the room.

 

There is a curtained off area in the far corner next to a partly open door. Through the gap Luke can see antique sofas around an oak table laden with books. Young men and women are sitting around the table having an animated discussion. They flick through the pages, show one another this passage or that, and argue over who is reading from which book. A sign on the door reads 'Private Study Group'.

 

“This takes me back,” Jane says happily. “At university I spent almost all of my free periods in a place like this.”

 

“I'm terrified to ask what you were doing.”  

 

“Researching, studying, debating. Student stuff. The curtained-off area looks promising.”

 

“Can I help you?” asks a tiny, pretty Chinese girl in a blue shirt and jeans.

 

Jane smiles lazily, and tucks her hands into her pockets. “Hi, my colleague and I would like to speak to the proprietor.”

 

“He's busy,” she snaps.

 

“Can I ask what the logo on your shirt is?” Luke asks.

 

“It's a turtle,” she answers, folding her arms. “Can I help you?”

 

Jane holds up her warrant card. “No, we really need to talk to the proprietor.”

 

“This is ridiculous. How many times are you people going to harass us?”

 

Jane glances sideways at Luke.

 

“You've had some dealings with the police?”

 

“That's one way of putting it. Four times, not including you; the locals twice, the vice squad, and the obscene publications squad.” She pushes her glasses up her nose. “If Councillor Marsh is _so_ offended by same sex images then maybe she should move to Afghanistan and have done with it.”

 

“You sell porn?” Jane asks, perking up.

 

“We sell rare books, including erotica. Why are you here then, if it's not for that?”

 

“Ah, that's what’s behind the curtain,” Luke remarks. “We need to speak to the owner about a missing person case.”

 

The girl blushes pink, and fiddles with one of her pigtails. “Oh, sorry. I thought you were going to start harassing Mr Gilmore about the erotica again.”

 

Jane pokes Luke gently in the belly. “He might, he's a prude. I'm a big fan of it myself.”

 

The girl smiles, and jerks a thumb over her shoulder. “He's in the back. I'll take you through.”

 

“I never understood the difference between porn and erotica,” Luke says, his voice rising nervously.

 

“To be honest? Not much,” the girl giggles. “If you call it erotica then it's more acceptable than porn.”

 

Luke looks around the room she has brought them into. It's a workshop with shelves of tape, blotting paper, book presses, glue, needles, thread, and other tools.

 

At the far end of the room there is a large table, brightly lit by overhead spot lamps. The man sitting there is in his mid-forties with collar length, thick, dark hair greying at the temples. He is repairing the spine of a copy of Foxe's Book of Martyrs, careful fingers stitching the leaves back into place.

 

“Mr Gilmore? There's a pair of police officers here to see you. But they _say_ it isn't about the erotica.”

 

“Thank you, Jie,” he answers, without looking up.  

 

Jie bolts from the room without another word.

 

“What can I help you officers with?”

 

“A murder,” Jane says bluntly.

 

“What?” Craig looks up, startled.

 

“We're investigating a murder,” Luke says a little too loudly.

 

Craig glances at him without a reaction, and returns his attention to Jane. “Who? It's not Drew, is it?”

 

“We're trying to identify the victim. Can we go somewhere private?”

 

They follow him back into the shop and up a cramped, winding staircase to a small oak door. Craig pulls out a huge key ring and unlocks the narrow door.

 

“Watch yourselves,” he says, over his shoulder. “This is an old building, it's a little uneven and confined.”

 

“It's beautiful,” Luke says under his breath as they walk into the lounge. The black beams and floorboards gleam against the parchment white walls. The baby spotlights shed a warm diffuse light that complements the neutral sofas and thick rugs.

 

The two recesses on either side of the chimney have been shelved from floor to ceiling and hundreds of books jostle for space.

 

“Looks like you're in the right profession,” Jane notes as she settles herself in an armchair.

 

Craig folds his arms tightly, and leans back against the wall as Luke sits awkwardly on the edge of a couch.

 

“Can we get to the point? _Is_ it Drew?”

 

“We don't know who he is yet,” Luke answers. “We have, uh, DNA linking you to him. That's why we're here.” He hands the printout over to Craig. “That's a computer reconstruction of the boy we found. Is that Drew?”

 

“No.” Craig squints at the printout. “Drew is dark and thirty nine. This looks a little like Henry though.”

 

“Henry?” Jane asks, pulling out her computer pad. “Surname?”

 

“Buchanan, but it can't be him. He's in New Zealand, has been for the past three weeks.” Craig shakes his head, and tries to hand the printout back to Luke. “It's not him. It can't be.”

 

“Do you have any photos of Henry?” Luke suggests. “Maybe we could see for ourselves.”

 

“Photos?” Craig says blankly. “Oh, I think there's the one on his personnel file.”

 

Jane watches him walk downstairs back into the shop, and then turns quickly to Luke. 

 

“Is he for real?” she whispers.

 

“Yeah,” Luke says quietly.

 

A few moments later the door opens and Craig returns, holding a manila folder which he hands to Luke.

 

“Perhaps you should sit down,” Luke suggests mildly. “You look a little shaken.”

 

Craig sits at the far end of the couch, and rubs his face. “Jie's had emails. It can't be Henry.”

 

“There's a strong likeness,” Luke says quietly. “Handsome lad.”

 

“Skinny little thing he is,” Craig says affectionately. “Lot of lads are at that age.”

 

“Henry worked here?” Jane asks.

 

Craig nods, bemused. “Isn't that why you're here?”

 

“We're here because your DNA was found on him.”

 

“It can't be.” Craig shakes his head. “It's a mistake, he's in New Zealand.” He looks at Luke imploringly. “He's just a nineteen year old kid. He's on his gap-year.”

 

“This young man, whoever he was, was killed and dumped,” Jane says evenly. “He has your DNA on him.”

 

Craig looks at the printout again, turning it around in his hands. “It's my shop. People say I should be glad I'm going grey and not bald, but the amount of hair I seem to lose everyday, I'm not so sure. My hair must be all over the place.” He gives them a vaguely worried look. “You won't tell the cleaner, will you? She's an old lady and she does her best I'm sure.” 

 

“Craig?” Luke says gently. “It is Henry, isn't it?”

 

“It looks like him.”

 

“How long were you seeing him?” Luke asks.

 

“What?”

 

“How long were you and Henry seeing each other?”

 

Craig shakes his head. “He's a nineteen year old law student; he wouldn't be caught d…” he catches himself. “He wouldn't have looked at me twice. He was a nice kid, I liked him. How… how was he killed? Was anyone else hurt?”

 

“He was shot in the back of the head,” Luke answers. “We don’t know about anyone else.”

 

“Henry was just an employee, that’s what you're saying?” Jane asks.

 

“Of course. Be serious; no nineteen year old lad would sleep with his _forty five_ year old boss. I think they're kids, and they think I'm two steps from senile dementia.”

 

“Clearly Henry didn't think that,” Jane says dryly. “Unless he was _very_ dedicated to helping the elderly.”

 

“What are you getting at? What's your point?”

 

Jane glances at Luke, but he looks away.

 

“The super fabulous bonus scheme you apparently have.”

 

Craig looks at her blankly.

 

“You're labouring under a misapprehension, Mr Gilmore. We didn't find your hair or skin on Henry. What we did find was a belly full of your semen.”

 

Craig gives a snort of angry laughter, and shakes his head. “No, no you didn't. Is that what this is, some sort of wind-up?” He throws the printout at Luke, and stands up. “This is your idea of humour, is it? Don't you have better things to do with your time than piss about?”

 

“It's not a wind-up, Craig,” Luke says calmly, keeping the older man's gaze. “This young man was found last night. He was murdered three weeks ago and dumped in the river. I don't have to tell you what he looks like now, do I?”

 

“No, of course not,” Craig says quietly. “Look, the last time I saw Henry Buchanan was three weeks ago, the night before he was leaving for New Zealand. We all went for a curry, and then they went off for a drink.” He shrugs sadly. “That's it, all there is to it.”

 

“Why didn't you go with them?” Jane asks.

 

“Because they wanted to go out and get pissed. It's what teenagers _do_.”

 

“I'll need their names and contact details,” Luke says, tapping his stylus against his computer pad.

 

“Of course.”

 

“Why didn't you go with them?” Jane asks again.

 

“I told you,” Craig says confused, looking at Luke.

 

“You're an attractive man, and these kids you have working here look to be paddling in the shallow end of the trendy pool. I don't believe they'd be going anywhere that wouldn't let you in.”

 

Craig shakes his head and stands up. “I don't know what Luke's told you, but I'm not in the habit of hanging around watching teenagers get drunk.”

 

“You'd have us believe you're not in the habit of fucking them either,” Jane points out.

 

“I'm not! Listen to me, lady I don't know how to make it any clearer. I had no interest in Henry, and I'm damn sure he had no interest in me. I'm twice his age!”

 

“Henry wouldn't have been the world's first gold-digger, this place must be worth a tidy bit,” Jane says, waving a hand to indicate the building. “Perhaps he…”

 

Craig walks out of the room without a word.

 

“That's a no then?” she calls after him. “Touchy, isn't he?”

 

“I think you offended him,” Luke says mildly.

 

“Bugger, he's really quite convincing in his outrage. You have a look around here, and I'll go and chase him down in the shop.”

 

“We don't have a warrant,” Luke observes.

 

“He invited us up here, and he's stomped off in a strop. See if you can see who this 'Drew' character is.”

 

“Ma'am.”

 

***

 

Jane walks down into the shop, and looks around until she spots a familiar face. “Excuse me, Jie, isn't it? I'm looking for Mr Gilmore? I'm afraid I've misplaced him.”

 

Jie fiddles with one of her pigtails and nods. “You really upset him.”

 

“It's my gift, so where's he gone to enjoy his tantrum in peace?”

 

“In the back, I think he's messing about with the CCTV. Through there, second door on the right.”

 

Jane trails a hand along the bookcases lining the walls as she walks into the back of the shop. They are all as neat and clean as the front of the shop. She finds Craig in a small room with a wall covered in monitors and audio visual equipment.

 

“Ashton was wondering why you didn't react to seeing him before. You've a monitor set up in the repair room I take it?”

 

“The insurance insisted on it,” Craig says, throwing a DVD case at her. “That's Henry's last day here. The one covering the night is on the cupboard behind you.”

 

“Are you always this cranky?”

 

“You just told me that someone I knew, someone I liked, has been murdered. Then you immediately start making accusations and insinuations.” Craig strides over and Jane takes an uncertain step back. “If you can't deal with making your suspects 'cranky' then I suggest that you don't deliberately aggravate them. Particularly if they've just been told someone they were fond of might have been murdered.”

 

“Why'd you leave the service?” Jane asks. “You don't mind me asking.”

 

“I retired. I did my twenty five years, and picked up my pension two years ago.”

 

“That's when you bought this place? What made you decide to open a book shop?”

 

Craig folds his arms. “Ashton's upstairs searching my lounge, isn't he?”

 

“He's probably moved into the bathroom by now.”

 

***

 

Luke gingerly picks up a pill bottle and, trying to touch it as little as possible, examines the directions for use.

 

The bathroom door crashes open, and Craig looms in the doorway.

 

“Get out!”

 

Luke puts the pill bottle back into the medicine cabinet and scuttles past.

 

***

 

He climbs into the car and slams the door shut. Jane glances at him as she continues arranging for an undercover officer to come to the shop.

 

“I'm not happy you had me do that,” Luke says quietly as she puts the phone away.

 

“He's an ex-copper, he knows the score,” Jane says.

 

“Well that makes it alright, let's go back in there and plant some evidence, eh?”

 

“If you think that'd help,” she says agreeably. “Here's Marty now. He's going to lurk about the shop while you and I find out if Henry is our boy after all.”

 

Luke chews his knuckles. “Craig's not an idiot. He knew all those stupid tricks and mind games you were playing; sitting in his chair, they teach that kind of intimidation to probationers.”

 

“He wasn't biting, was he? Interesting that he stuck to his story about the semen. Let's go and harass Louis, maybe there's a simple solution.”

 

***

 

Craig is rubbing his back as he walks into the shop.

 

“Mr Gilmore,” Jie says quietly. “You okay?”

 

“My back's killing me.”

 

“I can stay on a while if you want to lie down?”

 

“No, that just makes it worse,” Craig says with a smile. “Thanks anyway.”

 

“Have you had your pills?”

 

Craig nods, and tries to stretch. “Yeah, not allowed anymore today. I'm supposed to use a non-opiate painkiller as a top-up.”

 

“I could nip down to the cannabis café down the road and get you some brownies?” Jie smiles and giggles at his expression. “Don't give me that policeman look! It's been legal for ages. And they're non-opiates; they won't interfere with your back pills.”

 

“I don't know if that would be a good idea. I can't really afford to spend the next few hours stuffing my face and laughing at nothing,” Craig says wryly.

 

“And I _really_ don't need to see that,” Jie says firmly. “I'll get you the medicinal stuff, okay?”

 

“Thank you very much.”

 

Jie pauses as she's about to open the door. “What did the police want?”

 

“They found a body, and they think I can help them,” Craig says quietly. “He's not been officially identified yet.”

 

***

 

“So, do you think Gilmore is a goer as a suspect?”

 

Luke drums his fingers on the steering wheel and stares at the red traffic light. “He thought we were stitching him up. He seemed quite genuine in that.”

 

“He definitely didn't believe we'd connected him to semen in the body. That could just be a sign of arrogance rather than innocence.” Jane looks across at him. “Tell me I'm talking shit.”

 

“You are.”

 

“Come on, Linus,” she says, patting his knee. “If you sit there and sulk at me then I'm going to have to strip you naked and spank you.”

 

Luke laughs a little, and eases ahead as the light turns green. “Okay,” he says, still not looking at her. “If, and it's a big if, but if Craig killed someone then I think he’d turn himself in right away.”

 

“Natural goody two-shoes?”

 

“Every inch,” he agrees. “I can't imagine Craig committing a cold blooded killing at all.”

 

“If that's what it was.” Jane folds her hands in her lap.

 

“Shooting someone in the head seems cold to me. If Craig has, or had, a gun then it would have been for a purpose. This seems like an execution.”

 

“Granted. Ignoring that for a second, what else?”

 

“It's too coincidental to be a mix up,” Luke grimaces. “Do you think it could be faked after death? Maybe… get a used condom and…?”

 

Jane raises an eyebrow. “And get a corpse to swallow?”

 

“Oh, yeah. But they burp, don't they?”

 

“Isn't that an urban myth? Anyway, if I wanted to set you up and I had a condom full of your semen, I wouldn't fanny about trying to get a dead guy to swallow it.”

 

“Yeah,” Luke says gloomily. “You'd just pour it on his clothes.”

 

“Or in his hair.”

 

“Oh, I hate it when that happens,” he mutters. “I'm sure some blokes do it on purpose.”

 

Jane rubs her fingers through Luke's hair. “I'd have thought your hair was too short for that to be a problem.”

 

“It's not.”

 

“What was Gilmore like in bed?”

 

“Ma'am!” he protests.

 

“It is relevant,” she points out. “Was he violent? Did he knock you about?”

 

Luke looks at her out of the corner of his eye. “No, I'm not one of your little slave boys.”

 

“Linus, that's not what I'm asking. I'm not asking for his kinks, just whether he's violent in relationships.”

 

“Not with me,” he says, looking ahead.

 

***

 

Jane knocks on the door as she wanders into the path lab. “Louis! Get your tight arse out here.”

 

“Don't get him thinking about arses,” Luke mutters.

 

Louis appears behind Luke and touches his shoulder. “Hello again.”

 

“Argh!” Luke jumps. “Geez, don't sneak up on me like that.”

 

“How would you like me to…”

 

“Oi!” Jane snaps her fingers. “Where's our autopsy report? Have you passed the body to forensics?”

 

“Don't sneak up on me _at all_!”

 

“Sorry,” Louis apologises. “I just…”

 

“Excuse me, my lips are definitely moving. The non-girls only ones too.”

 

Louis blanches, and Luke cringes.

 

“So coarse,” Louis mutters. “It's not necessary, is it?”

 

“Is it necessary for you to continually throw yourself at my bagman? No, but you do it. Got your attention? Good. The semen in this lad's stomach, could it have got there after death?”

 

“No,” Louis says coldly. “It was before death.”

 

“Do you know how long before death he swallowed the semen?”

 

“Not long,” Louis says firmly. “A couple of hours.”

 

Luke blows out his cheeks. “You're sure, it couldn't be longer?”

 

“No less than an hour and a half, two and a half hours at the most.”

 

“ _Anyhow_ , our designated semen sower swears blind he didn't do the dirty deed,” Jane remarks.

 

“You thought getting a blow job makes a person homicidal?” Louis asks sarcastically.

 

“I don't know, there was this one time, that this guy wouldn't take a damn _hint_ and leave me the hell alone,” Luke says, glaring at Louis.

 

“Actually I meant that Mr Gilmore insists that it's not his semen,” Jane says brightly into the tense silence.

 

“Well he would, wouldn't he? That's what they normally say when they haven't any way of explaining incriminating evidence.”

 

“So… what else have you got?” Jane asks.

 

Louis scratches his head. “Single gunshot wound to the back of the head. Small calibre, maybe a .22 from several feet away; from the angle, he was kneeling down when he was shot.”

 

“Can you tell how tall the shooter was?” Luke asks, a little sheepishly.

 

“Tall, around six feet give or take.”

 

Luke swears and shakes his head.

 

“Was that the wrong answer?” Louis asks solicitously.

 

“Not the answer he wanted.” Jane ruffles Luke's hair. “Hey, how about if it was a short-arse on a step-ladder?” she suggests with a grin.

 

“Perhaps, or maybe it was Marvin the Martian on stilts,” Louis suggests sourly.

 

“Can we narrow down the time of death?” Jane ignores his comment.

 

“Yes, actually, there are larvae in the…”

 

Luke turns and walks out.

 

“My pick up lines really suck, huh?” Louis tries to laugh.

 

“He's a little fragile today,” Jane says, about to pat his shoulder but changing her mind. “Don't take it too personally. So, go on, thrill me with your tales of teeny, tiny creatures lodged inside the human body.” She waggles her eyebrows. “It makes me all hot and bothered.”

 

***

 

Jane swats Luke on the rear as she walks out into the corridor.

 

“Come on, Linus, get your bum in gear.”

 

“Ma'am, I'm sorry… that was totally out of order…”

 

“Let's walk.”

 

They're silent out into the car park and into the car. Jane squeezes Luke's thigh as he buckles the seat belt.

 

“First rule of good-cop, bad-cop is you have to pick a role and stick to it. Second rule is _I'm_ the bad cop. I like being bad cop!” She winks at him.

 

“I'm sorry, I'm not sure I can do this.”

 

“Well I know that you can,” Jane says firmly. “Don't bail on me, okay? You're the best bagman I've ever had, and whatever happens you'll make sure Gilmore gets an even shake.”

 

Luke leans forward and starts the engine. “I'm going to be ratty. I always am when I'm stressed.”

 

“I consider myself warned.”

 

***

 

Jane walks up to Luke's desk, and gently pulls his hair. “Got the public information report on Henry Buchanan?”

 

“Hmm, yeah.” Luke scratches his head. “Nineteen years old, both parents dead, only child. Law student, no debts, no criminal record. Blood type O positive, no fillings, no broken bones, no noted scars. Lived in rented digs, passed his driving test but he hasn't a car on record. In the top percentage of all his classes and he was expecting a first.”

 

“Swot,” Jane observes.

 

“Very much so; according to his personnel evaluations he was quiet, shy, serious, and hard working.”

 

“And gay?”

 

Luke shrugs. “He wasn't a member of any of the support groups at the university, but then he wasn't in any social groups. I've forwarded the medical reports to the coroner's office to see how our dead boy and Henry's records compare. They might be able to ID him positively from the dental records.”

 

“Right, let’s get some grub, and this afternoon we'll burgle Henry's place and see what we can find.”

 

***

 

“Mr Gilmore!” The small, pretty, twenty year old Thai boy, bounces behind the curtain and accidentally scatters the half dozen men browsing. “Sorry.”

 

“Don't worry about it,” Craig says, raising an eyebrow. “What's wrong, Oscar; did the till make a funny noise again?” 

 

“The man in black is here again. The one with the red hair, and the dead, staring eyes.”

 

“David’s my solicitor.” Craig smiles thinly. “Having dead, staring eyes is probably considered a bonus for a lawyer.”

 

“He's creepy.”

 

Craig pats him on the shoulder. “Well, would you keep an eye on here for me while I see him?”

 

“Okay.”

 

***

 

Luke picks up the tray, and carries it over to the couch where Jane is lounging. “Why do I always have to carry the tray?”

 

“’Cos you're my sidekick, and besides I paid.” Jane helps him take the tea things off the tray and set them on the table. “They cooking the food?”

 

“You always ask that, and you know full well that they bring it over when it's done.”

 

Jane pours the tea, and looks across at his down turned face. “It's our tradition. Traditions are important, stupid ones especially.” She stirs milk into her tea and takes a sip. “You with me, Linus?”

 

“Sorry.” Luke drags his attention back to her.

 

“Is Gilmore having a thing with Henry as unbelievable as he's making out? There's plenty of girls want to screw a father figure, don't cute boys ever want that?”

 

“All the time,” Luke says gloomily. “Smart, introspective, timid kids like Henry more than most. Craig's a grower too; at first he seems really abrupt and rude, but gradually you see that's shyness. He warms up well to people.”

 

“There are two possibilities that I see. One; Gilmore had sex with him, and that's how the semen got there. Two; he didn't, and either someone's dropped a clanger or fitted him up.” 

 

Luke sips his coffee. “But Craig's not some creepy chicken hawk. Even twelve years ago a nineteen year old would've been too young.”

 

“Are you calling me a chicken hawk?” Jane asks as the waiter arrives with toasted sandwiches.

 

“A _creepy_ chicken hawk, Ma'am, and if the shoe fits.”

 

Jane gives the startled waiter a sweet smile and accepts her sandwich. “Thank you.”

 

The waiter scuttles off, looking at them over his shoulder.

 

“We may never be able to eat here again,” Luke sighs.

 

***

 

David, a neat man in his early thirties, sits on Craig's couch and carefully straightens the crease of his trousers.

 

“His name isn't really Oscar, surely?”

 

Craig finishes off another brownie, and shakes his head. “He decided that he needed a name that sounded 'English', and for some reason he picked 'Oscar'.”

 

“How culturally imperialist of you.”

 

“It wasn't my idea! Go and be sardonic at him and his family.”

 

“I'll bear that in mind.” David opens a note book, and clicks a ballpoint pen. “Now, tell me exactly what the police said and did.”

 

***

 

“My, my, you really have upset Louis,” Jane remarks, scrolling through the screen on her mobile phone. “He's actually emailing me to say there's some discrepancy with the semen results.”

 

“It's not Craig's?”

 

“Sorry, it is. Something about some chemical residue in it.”

 

Luke deflates. “Oh.”

 

“Early days yet, Linus. Even if he screwed Henry and is lying about it, that still doesn't make him the killer.”

 

***

 

“They found your semen in his body?”

 

“So they claim.”

 

David taps the pad with his pen. “Steer clear of crying police fit-up, at least until we can substantiate it. The police certainly aren't trusted, but people don't want to believe they actively frame the innocent either.” 

 

“Okay, fine.”

 

“At the moment they don't appear to have anything connecting you to this apart from the semen. Refuse to discuss the matter further if you're pressed, you've already answered that question. Be polite, offer them something in exchange,” David suggests.

 

“Well, they wanted a list of the people at his leaving party.” Craig rubs his head.

 

“Good, provide that.” David puts the pad and pen away. “And in future, when committing sex murders, wear a condom, mask, gloves, and a boiler suit.”

 

“I'm not high enough yet to appreciate your humour,” Craig says sourly.

 

“Then it's fortunate you pay me for legal advice, not gags.”

 

***

 

Luke's phone trills loudly in his pocket. He reaches for the phone and tucks it under his chin. “Ashton.”

 

“It's… it's Craig Gilmore. I have the names and numbers that you asked for.”

 

“Sorry?” Luke nearly drops the phone.

 

“You want the names and contact details of the kids at the party. I could email them to you?”

 

“Uh, I guess.” Luke clears his throat. “Actually it might be better if I came and picked them up.”

 

“Oh.”

 

“I'll be there in about an hour and a half.”

 

“Need to finish off searching my home?” Craig asks wearily.

 

Luke flinches, and bites out his words. “I thought it'd be quicker if you showed me where you're keeping the leather clad Twinkies.”

 

“I had no idea you had a sense of humour. Must be a recent development,” Craig answers acidly. “An hour and a half then.”

 

Luke hears the line disconnect and thumbs the button on his own phone. “That was Craig Gilmore. He has the names and contact details of the people at the party.”

 

“And you asked him about naked Twinkies? I'm rubbing off on you.”

 

Luke rubs the back of his neck. “I should've told you that Craig always pushes my buttons.”

 

“Lucky him.”

 

“He doesn't do it on purpose. I don't know if he's even aware he does it to me.”

 

***

 

“Hello,” Oscar says cheerfully.

 

“Er, hello.” Luke brushes off the looks he's receiving from the customers. “Have you taken over from Jie?”

 

“She's finished for the day. Viv is here, now.” Oscar waves a hand at the curtained area.

 

“I'm actually here to see Mr Gilmore. Is he about?” Luke holds up his warrant card. “He's expecting me.”

 

Oscar picks up a phone and dials quickly. “Mr Gilmore, there's a short policeman here to see you.”

 

“Oi! Less of the short.” Luke scowls at the younger man.

 

“Up you go.”

 

Luke makes his way up the stairs, pausing only to glare back at the younger man as he waves merrily. 

 

Craig opens the door on the fourth knock and looks blankly at Luke. “Oh, hi!” He envelopes the smaller man in a bear hug, and just as suddenly lets go and shambles back into the lounge.

 

Luke steadies himself against the doorframe and then edges into the room, closing the door behind him. “Are you pissed?”

 

“Not allowed to drink,” Craig says, standing too close and leaning against the wall. “’Cos of the pills for the thing.”

 

Luke squints at his eyes, and gently pushes him backwards. “You're high!”

 

“You're short, but I don't make a big deal,” Craig remarks, turning and wandering over to the coffee table.

 

“Hey!”

 

“PC Shortarse,” Craig giggles.

 

“ _DC_ Shortarse,” Luke snaps. “Since when do you get stoned? You're a grown man!”

 

Craig makes a puppet out of his hand. “Do you hear DC Shortarse? Oh, he's grumpy!”

 

“Where's this list?”

 

“Huh? Hey, are you hungry?” Craig asks, walking off to the kitchen. “I'm starving. I want some chips.”

 

Luke runs after him and puts a hand on his arm. “I don't think you should cook in your condition. Look… if you find me the list then I'll cook you chips. Or whatever the hell you want.”

 

“You? Cook?” Craig giggles. “Kerry said you couldn't toast bread.”

 

“I hate stoners,” Luke mutters, pushing him to the couch. “Sit!”

 

“Woof!”

 

“How much have you smoked?”

 

“Euw! Yuck!”

 

Luke rubs his face, and kneels down to face Craig. “Look at me, okay? You rang me and said that you had a list of the people who were at Henry's leaving party. Where's the list?”

 

Craig leans forward until he's only a few inches away from Luke. “Coffee… thingy… table. Your eyes are so pretty. How do get them so… shiny?”

 

“Clean living and no drugs.” Luke stands, and searches the coffee table for the list.

 

“You have the greatest little arse,” Craig says sadly. 

 

Luke forces the smile from his face and turns around, the list in his hand. “Do you often get stoned in the middle of the afternoon?”

 

“Nooo. First time. I have a thing, and I have pills. But it really hurt, and the pills weren't enough. I'm not allowed to drink ‘cos of the thing.”

 

“The thing?” Luke repeats.

 

“So Jie said I should try some of the… cake things. What do you call them?”

 

“I have no idea.”

 

“Hmm.” Craig gets up and meanders over to a bookcase.

 

“So, did you try some of the 'cake things'?”

 

“Eh? Oh, yeah. A couple, but then I was _really_ hungry so I had a couple more.”

 

“I see.” Luke reads through the list. “Who's Drew?”

 

“He wasn't there!” Craig snorts. “No smack at Henry's party. Poor Henry. Poor, poor Henry. Did I say Drew was there? He wasn't there.”

 

“No, you didn't. I, um, I was just curious.”

 

“Curious cat.” Craig swipes a finger across Luke's finger, and ambles out of the room.

 

“Where are you going?”

 

“I'm bored. You're boring.” Craig crashes onto his bed and falls asleep.

 

Luke stands uncertainly, and then edges into the bedroom. Craig is spread out, already snoring a little.

 

Luke perches on the edge of the bed and checks that he is safe before leaving the flat.

 

***

 

Jane sniggers and covers her mouth.

 

“I'm glad it amuses you, Ma'am,” Luke says coolly, gripping the steering wheel.

 

“Oh, hon. You're not boring.” She squeezes his knee. “Besides look at the source, he was as high as a kite. I bet he wasn't exactly scintillating conversation either.”

 

“He said I had a great arse,” Luke mutters, part sullen and part pleased.

 

“I said he was probably boring, not that he was blind.”

 

“Thanks, I think.” Luke drags the car to a halt outside a block of flats.

 

“So, he's on some sort of medication for… something. He can't drink, but he can take cannabis to help with the pain. We should do a public info report,” Jane says, getting out of the car. “Find out what your ex is hiding in his skimpy drawer.”

 

Luke climbs out of the car and slams the door. “We've got no cause.”

 

“Don't be a spoilsport. You tried to find out who Drew was.” She scans the buildings before finding the one she's looking for. “You didn't ask him if he'd shtupped Henry though.”

 

“He was high, not hypnotised. He'd remember if I asked him that, and I'm supposed to be the good cop,” Luke says sourly, stamping over to the building. “Good cops aren't _supposed_ to be sued for illegal interview.”

 

“Ah, so this is you being ratty. If Henry hadn't kept the flat on then we'd have to deal with new tenants.” Jane pats his bottom. “Look on the bright side.”

 

***

 

Jane pulls on gloves as Luke zips up his boiler suit. He pulls on his gloves, unlocks the door, and pushes it open. “Hello?” he calls. “Anyone here?”

 

“If Henry answers then we _really_ owe Gilmore an apology.” Jane zips up her boiler suit.

 

Luke stoops to pick up a small pile of post from behind the door. He flicks through the envelopes before carefully placing them on the battered sideboard.

 

“This looks like my first bed-sit,” Jane says cheerfully. “Hey, I had that poster!”

 

“Who puts posters up in their lounge?”

 

“Teenagers!” Jane wanders around the small room, looking at the books on the shelves, the posters on the walls, and the magazines on the overflowing coffee table.

 

Luke walks into the kitchen, checks the bin, and then opens the cupboards and drawers. Four matching cups, four matching plates, four matching bowls, and four matching saucers. “Who lives like this?” he mutters.

 

“Someone just starting out,” Jane says quietly, leaning over the breakfast bar. “My first place, I was seventeen; I could only afford one of those cheap, crappy 'seconds' breakfast sets. I bet he has six knives, forks, and spoons, all with white plastic handles too.”

 

“Four plates and six sets of cutlery.” Luke leans on the breakfast bar. “I can't find any cleaning stuff beyond Fairy liquid, but it's spotless in here. I'd swear the floor's been scrubbed too.”

 

“I never did that in my first flat,” she says slowly. “Hell, it only gets done now if I'm screwing a domestic-slave type and all my clothes are washed and ironed.”

 

Luke smiles and shakes his head. “Ma'am, sometimes talking to you is like looking through some weird mirror into another dimension.”

 

“Mixed metaphor,” Jane says distractedly. “If he's been gone three weeks then why's there no dust on the kitchen floor?”

 

“Maybe the landlady cleans the place?” Luke offers. “Yeah, alright,” he says off her look. “It's unlikely.”

 

“Unlikely is certainly one way of putting it.” Jane looks back over her shoulder. “And she's keeping the kitchen a lot cleaner than the lounge.”

 

“Possible scene of death?” Luke steps back from the breakfast bar and scowls at the floor. “Not much room to kneel down.”

 

Jane raps her knuckles on the cupboard top. “Mark it a maybe, and let's gets to the juicy stuff.”

 

“Bedroom?”

 

“You know me so well.”

 

***

 

Viv wanders out of the erotica section and stands next to Oscar. As she leans back against the wall a lock of her long dark hair flops out of its rubber band. “So, um, you think he's here to steal some books?” she whispers.

 

“He must want to steal a lot of books.” Oscar whispers back. “He came here after the police people left.”

 

“More police? They should just station a constable in the back, next to the microwave.”

 

“I think _he's_ a policeman.”

 

“A secret policeman! Here to check we're not… a band of ruthless, mercenary booksellers.”

 

“We _are_.”

 

“Well… yeah, that's why it's taking him so long to check we're not. Because he can't,” Viv says triumphantly.

 

“I think he's spying on us. You're the boss, you make him go away.”

 

Viv folds her arms across her chest. “Oh, when it's making 'spies' leave then I'm in charge, but when I ask you to clear up the tea stuff after a meeting then I'm not the boss of you.”

 

“Yes?”

 

***

 

Luke is on his hands and knees on the bedroom carpet while Jane sits in the middle of the bed flipping through a collection of magazines.

 

“Henry's got rather narrow tastes,” she remarks.

 

“Uh-huh.”

 

“But there aren't any costumes.”

 

Luke pulls his head from out under the bed. “Sorry?”

 

Jane looks at him over the top of 'Gagged Boy Magazine', and shrugs. “Henry seems to have been an attractive young man with very clearly defined tastes. By the time most subs become active, start looking for a dom, they've played around with outfits and accessories.”

 

“I hope you're not going to make me ask Louis if Henry was an S and M virgin,” Luke grumbles. 

 

Jane puts the magazines down and gets off the bed. “You're getting bondage and discipline confused with S and M again. I get off on bossing people around, as I'm sure you've noticed, not hurting them.” She lifts up the mattress and peers underneath. “If I was a sadist then I'd be forever making you ask Louis sexually explicit questions.”

 

“It's such a shame when perverse sexual practices end up as cliques,” Luke says sadly.

 

“Excuse me?” Jane asks sweetly.

 

“Well… you know. You start off with a happy group of perverts and it fragments into 'the adult baby group', 'the scat group', and 'the pegging group'. All at loggerheads.” 

 

Luke sits back on his heels and holds up a small camera. “The memory stick for this is missing.”

 

“Might not need one, it might upload to a computer. Bugger, I’ve not seen anything electrical. Have a see in the other two rooms. One must be the bathroom.”

 

Luke trundles off out of the room as Jane notices something that has fallen from between the magazines: a small stack of Polaroid photographs held together with a rubber band. 

 

“Do I get a gold star?” Luke asks, walking into the room and holding up a battered laptop.

 

“Ooh a rainbow one at least.”

 

“What've you got there?” he asks. “Dirty photographs?”

 

“Work 'do's', from the look of it. That girl Jie's in a few, a cute oriental lad, Henry himself, oh and your old flame.” She raises her eyebrows at Luke. “He's in every single one.”

 

“There's a bunch of cards on a memo board in the little office room,” he says uncomfortably. “Christmas cards, birthday cards, and a couple of postcards. All from Craig, although the postcards are addressed to all the staff at the shop, not Henry.”

 

“Henry nicked postcards from work? Oh dear, oh dear.” Jane rubs her head. “That was a boy with a major crush on his boss.”

 

“I used to nick memos,” Luke says uncomfortably.

 

“You would, you big swot. I bet you have every memo you ever received in box folders at home.”

 

“That wasn't quite what I meant.”

 

“Yeah.” Jane kisses his forehead. “I know what you meant. Now, where's the power cable?”

 

“Huh? Oh.” He weighs the machine in his hands. “Don't they run on batteries?”

 

Jane takes the laptop in one hand, and pinches his cheek with the other. “Sure, until the battery runs out and they need charging again. Be a good lad and find it so we can hand this over to the tech lads. I'll see if there's anything interesting in the bathroom. Oh, and better grab Henry's haul of stalking goodness.”

 

Luke is kneeling down in the study, trying to unplug the power cord from the mass of plugs in the extension, when his phone rings.

 

“Hello? Hi Marty, oh, she's probably left it in the car again. You're joking. Well how long were you in there? Didn't you think they'd find it a bit suspicious? I mean how long does it take you to browse for a book? Okay, okay. I'll tell her. Much good it'll do you.”

 

The cable finally comes free, ricocheting out of the coiled mass, and bringing an empty Coca-Cola bottle with it.

 

“Ma'am?” he calls. “I've got good news, and bad news.”

 

“In the bathroom.”

 

The bathroom is tiny and ringing with damp. Black mould stretches across the walls just lapping at the edges of the ceiling.

 

“Bloody hell,” Luke moans, covering his face with his sleeve. “I'm amazed Henry wasn't too sick to work.”

 

Jane is sitting on the bath holding the paper bin. “Does this look like the same shape to you?” She holds up a plastic wrapper and the first aid box.

 

“I'd say so.”

 

“The price tag was still on it.”

 

“Is anything missing?” Luke asks.

 

“Funnily enough there's a bandage missing, and the tape has been opened. Someone hurt themselves, and they did it after all the bins were emptied.” Jane slips the kit and the wrapper into evidence bags. “Might be worth a look. Did you say you had news?”

 

“Yes, Ma'am. I've found the cable, and I might have some DNA.” He holds up the bottle inside an evidence bag.

 

“You've always got DNA, especially after a hot date.”

 

“I think that comment is most unbecoming,” Luke says, po-faced.

 

“Thank you Jane Austen, I’ll bear that in mind,” Jane retorts. “The floor in here’s very clean too.”

 

Luke backs out of the door, and lowers the sleeve from his face. “It's the only thing that is.”

 

“I think we've done what we can here. Tomorrow I'll have forensics go over the place.” Jane walks out of the bathroom and closes the door. “Something very fishy about these suspiciously clean areas. Did you say something about bad news?”

 

“Marty got thrown out of the shop.” Luke follows her back to the lounge. “The fact that he was in there for about four hours seemed to attract undue attention, for some reason.”

 

“Smart arse, did we forget to send a replacement?”

 

“Seems so.”

 

Jane ruffles his hair. “Okay, we'll call it a day. You get off to your shag palace, and I'll drop this off at the station. Oh, and if the space cadet rings you then be sure and let me know.”

 

“He won't.”

 

***

 

Luke goes to the gym on the way home. He swims a dozen lengths in the pool, pushing himself harder and faster until he is too tired to think anymore.

 

There are a handful of men in the changing room. Three of them meet Luke's gaze, and he nods at a man his own age with blond hair and wide blue eyes.

 

They walk into a changing room, and the man drops to his knees. Luke peels down his swimming trunks and the wet material drops and pools around his ankles. He closes his eyes as the other man applies his mouth. 

 

When he gets home he's feeling a lot more human. 

 

***

 

Craig staggers back a few steps, and then raises the pads. Jie pauses midway through a kick, her foot raised almost at head height, and frowns at him.

 

“Are you sure you're up for this?”

 

“I'm fine.” Craig rubs his forehead with the back of his hand. “I had too many of those brownies, that's all.”

 

“You were only supposed to eat one,” Jie points out, her foot still raised unwaveringly.

 

“It made me hungry.” Craig adjusts his stance. “Come on, give me what you've got.”

 

Jie pulls back her foot and kicks the guards. Craig flies backwards and lands flat on the floor.

 

“Sorry!” Jie runs over and holds out her hand. 

 

“That's fine. That's fine,” Craig says, lying perfectly still. “Although I think perhaps I may need some assistance getting up.”

 

***

 

Jane peels down the leather shorts, and slaps the naked bottom. “That's a nice arse you have.” 

 

“Hemphn.”

 

“If I wanted you to talk then I wouldn't have gagged you.” She pulls on the strap-on and straddles him. “Now be a good ketsele and purr for me.”

 

***

 

“Good morning!” Jane says cheerfully, sweeping into the room.

 

“Ma'am,” Luke acknowledges.

 

“What time did you get in?” she asks, handing him a cappuccino and an almond croissant.

 

“Not too early.” He takes a sip of his coffee. “Mmm, thanks.”

 

“Anything good?” she asks, looking over his shoulder at the computer screen.

 

“A report from the lads at Glasgow. They located Henry Buchanan's next of kin, a cousin, and compared DNA. It's a match,” Luke says quietly.

 

“Alas, poor Henry. Anything else?”

 

Luke leans back in his chair and shrugs. “Preliminary report from the IT bods. Henry's laptop is full of porn.”

 

“A teenage boy's laptop is full of porn. There's a shocker. Any het porn? Or all men with men?”

 

“That's a strange way of putting it.” Luke bites into his croissant. “It's all teenage boys and older men apparently, just like the magazines. Seems like Henry also had a very active social life. At least on the internet.”

 

“Chat rooms?”

 

“Messenger, IT say they found chat logs.” Luke pulls a face. “Apparently he was calling himself SlaveBoy, and having lots of conversations with someone called Pure. They've sent them all to me to read through. Lucky me.”

 

“For someone so intelligent Henry didn't have much imagination.” Jane drapes her arms around his shoulders. “I mean, SlaveBoy? How passé. Did they find anything else?”

 

“They say they don't think the machine's been used since the evening of Henry's going away party.”

 

“They aren't sure?”

 

Luke shrugs. ''The machine logs all show it was last used then.”

 

''But anything on a PC can be faked if you know how. That the gist of it?” 

 

''More or less. They say it's ninety nine per cent certain but...”

 

“Until we find a prime suspect who’s a computer genius then I'll take their word for it.” Jane reaches over and moves the mouse over to an open document. “Forensics report?”

 

“No, Ma'am.” Luke swats her hand away. “The messenger logs from the laptop. Forensics for the body and his room won't be till tomorrow probably.”

 

“Grumpy poof, aren't you?”

 

“When are we going back to the book shop?” he asks.

 

“Soon.” Jane checks her watch. “Looks like the leaving do is the last definite sighting we have of him. You stressing about seeing Gilmore?”

 

“A bit, yeah.”

 

Jane wraps her arms around his shoulders. “Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to get on his good side. Even if he didn't do it, we still need him to grass on his staff.”

 

“He'd have been more inclined to cooperate if he hadn't caught me rifling his flat,” Luke says sourly. “Not that he wasn't pissed off at me enough already.”

 

“It's amazing how helpful people can be when the possibility of sex is in the air.” 

 

“Ma'am!” Luke stutters. “How you possibly…”

 

“I'm not saying you should screw him,” Jane says mildly. “Not unless you want to and we've cleared him as a suspect.”

 

“Oh well, that makes all the difference!”

 

“You just let the possibility float in the air.” Jane ruffles his hair. “Linus, you wanna fuck him. You know it, I know it. Just be a _tiny_ touch less scrupulous about letting _him_ know it. Trust me, he'll forget all about you going through his drawers. And, if he's sweet and innocent, then you boys can bang boots which would do you no end of good. It's a win/win situation.”

 

***

**_Excerpt_ **

 

**_SlaveBoy says:_ **

**_Does it make me really sad?_ **

****

**_Pure says:_ **

**_Yes. Yes it does._ **

****

**_SlaveBoy says:_ **

**_Well I'm sad then_ **

****

**_Pure says:_ **

**_Wanting an older man doesn't just make you sad. It also makes you a rare commodity._ **

****

**_SlaveBoy says:_ **

**_Precious gem hehehe_ **

****

**_Pure says:_ **

**_Being completely obsessed with just one older man, one who isn't interested, now that's just a waste._ **

****

**_SlaveBoy says:_ **

**_He could be interested in me. It's not like he's straight!_ **

****

**_Pure says:_ **

**_He could but he's not. Doesn't it make it worse that he's gay?_ **

****

**_SlaveBoy says:_ **

**_He is gay, so there's a chance_ **

****

**_Pure says:_ **

**_Exactly_ **

****

**_SlaveBoy says:_ **

**_Um?_ **

****

**_Pure says:_ **

**_There's a tiny, slim chance of success. So, like an idiot, you keep on hoping and wishing._ **

****

**_SlaveBoy says:_ **

**_It keeps me going_ **

****

**_Pure says:_ **

**_For now certainly, but eventually it'll poison you._ **

 

***

 

Craig looks up when the bell jingles. He meets Luke's eyes and blushes crimson.

 

“Mr Gilmore,” Jane says quietly. “We need to talk to you and your staff. Are they all present?”

 

“No, but I can have them all here soon.” Craig calls across to a young black woman. “Evany, we need to close up. Please let everyone know that we'll be reopening as soon as possible.”

 

“Thanks,” Luke says quietly.

 

Craig nods once.

 

***

 

Luke looks around the room. There are about half a dozen youngsters, of both sexes, and various races. They're sat in a rough circle with Craig just to the left of the centre where Jie is sitting.

 

“I'm afraid I have some bad news,” Jane says, just quietly enough that they have to pay attention to hear. “In the early hours of Monday morning the body of a young man was found in the river. I'm sorry to have to tell you all, that he has been positively identified as Henry Buchanan.” Jane scans the room, all faces shocked and stunned. Craig is staring down at his feet. His hand on Jie's shoulder. The shock clears her face leaving grim fury behind. Viv is clutching Oscar's hand, her face crumpling into tears.

 

“Excuse me,” a young man asks, putting his hand up. “But Henry was in New Zealand, wasn't he? How did he get back?”

 

''What happened to him?”

 

“We don't know yet,” Luke says quietly. “But we are going to find out.”

 

Oscar rolls his eyes and snorts. ''Of course. So many killed and nobody caught. But for Henry, easy!”

 

“That's enough,” Craig says mildly.    

 

“How did he die?” Jie asks.

 

“He was shot,” Jane answers.

 

“Oscar, take Viv upstairs,” Craig instructs.

 

“But...”

 

“He said do it!” Jie snaps.

 

“Please don't go too far. We will need to speak to all of you,” Luke says quickly. “Especially those of you who were at his leaving party.”

 

***

 

Jane smiles pleasantly.

 

“How long have you worked here, Jie?”  

 

''Eighteen, no, twenty months.”

 

“You must have started right after the shop opened,” Luke observes. 

 

“Yeah. First week,” she says with a nod. ''So, yes I know when Henry started working here. It was last year.”

 

''Do you enjoy working here?” Jane asks.

 

“Yes.'' Jie folds her arms defensively. “I don't know anything about Henry's death.”

 

“Murder,” Jane says mildly.

 

''I'm trying not to think about it.”

 

''We'd rather you did.”

 

“How well did you know him?” Luke asks.

 

“Quite well I think. We talked sometimes, but not about heavy stuff really.” She smiles a little. “Mostly he called me a little thug, and I called him a swot. He was like my annoying little brother.”

 

“Were you sleeping with him?”

 

“With _Henry_? No!”

 

“Because he was gay?” Jane asks.

 

“'Cos he was Henry. I never thought of him like that. I'm sure he never thought of me like that,” Jie says. 

 

''Did he talk about his love life much?” Luke asks. ''He was quite a handsome lad going from his photos.”

 

“He was very secretive about that kind of thing. Well, not secretive, private.” Jie rolls her eyes. ''Not like Oscar. You can never get him to shut up.”

 

“Did Henry mention any boyfriends at all?” Luke asks.

 

“I don't even know if he was gay.”

 

“We're quite sure he was,” Jane answers.

 

Jie shrugs and sighs. “I never keep up with who's doing what with who. Sorry, I'm not much help am I?”

 

***

 

“Why does it matter?” Viv demands, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand. “He could be gay if he wanted!”

 

“Miss Groening,” Jane says evenly. “Most people are killed by someone they knew and trusted. Most adults who are murdered, are killed by either someone they’re dating, or someone they dated in the past.”

 

“Oh that's... That's awful. It's so horrible.”

 

“We just want you to understand why we're asking,” Luke says calmly. “If Henry was gay then our killer might well be an ex boyfriend. If he was straight then we could be looking for a woman. So it makes quite a difference from our perspective.”

 

“But Henry never got anywhere. Not really. We went to a gay bar once, so he could see what it was like... maybe pick someone up. But he freaked out! He couldn't cope with all the attention.” Viv chews a piece of her hair. “Lots of boys wanted to buy him drinks.”

 

“It can be intimidating. Especially the first few times,” Luke agrees.

 

“You're... um... right,” Viv trails off.

 

“Did you and Henry ever talk about boys?” Luke asks.      

 

“No, I mean, not _boys_. Henry has a thing for people a bit older, a bit older than us. Older men,” Viv sucks a lock of her hair. “I mean he had.” 

 

“Did he have a thing for anyone in particular?” Luke prompts gently.

 

“He had a poster of Denzel Washington and Russell Crowe. From that film, 'American Gangster'?”

 

“Good film,” Jane notes.

 

“He had all of Denzel Washington's films,” Viv says with a smile.

 

“I prefer Russell Crowe,” Luke says, smiling back at her. “What about someone he knew? Some of the boys here are pretty cute, did Henry like any of them?”

 

“Oh… no. I don't think he liked anyone at work that way,” Viv says, looking away.

 

Luke spreads the Polaroids across the desk. “Can you look at these for me?”

 

“Where did you get those?” Viv asks, leaning forward.

 

“Do you know who took them?” Jane asks.

 

“I did.” She blows her nose on a tissue. “Henry always teases, teased, me because I use a Polaroid but they're great! Especially at parties, you can have lots of fun. You can still buy the film on eBay if you shop around.”

 

“Did Henry have a camera?”

 

“A digital one, it's really tiny. I think he mostly uses it online as um, a video phone?”

 

Luke nods and adjusts one of the snapshots, drawing her attention to it. “Did Henry ask for these pictures especially?”

 

Viv shuffles in her seat and rearranges the photographs. “Oh, I don't remember. They're just mementoes. Henry liked his bits and pieces for scrapbooks and that.” She gulps and starts to cry again. “He was very sentimental.”

 

***

 

“Yes, there were photographs of Mr Gilmore. So what?” Oscar asks.

 

“If you look closely, you may notice there are more pictures of Mr Gilmore than anyone else,” Luke points out.

 

Oscar grinds his teeth. “A coincidence.”

 

“No such animal,” Jane says calmly. “You seem very upset at the idea of Henry being attracted to Mr Gilmore. Any particular reason for that?”

 

“Henry is dead. I didn't do it, Mr Gilmore didn't do it. Nobody here did it.” 

 

“I hope you're right,” Luke says gently. “So, can you explain why Henry has no photographs that Mr Gilmore doesn't appear in? And why he took home postcards Mr Gilmore sent to the shop?”

 

“He… he used to have a crush. It meant nothing, and it was over,” Oscar says hotly. 

 

“Is that what Henry told you?”

 

Oscar stares down at the table. “He wasn't ready. He needed time.”

 

“He wasn't ready to be with you?” Jane asks.

 

“Not properly.” Oscar looks up at Luke. “He was nervous. We were taking things slowly.”

 

“Viv said he hadn't much experience,” Luke prompts carefully.

 

“No, he didn't. He had…” Oscar rolls his eyes. “He had lots of porn. Weird stuff. I told him it didn't have to be that way. It doesn't have to be _nasty_.”

 

“Sometimes that's what excites people,” Jane says quietly.

 

“Ha! You didn't see it!”

 

“We've seen the magazines, the DVDs, and the videos he had downloaded to his computer,” Luke answers.

 

“Oh. Well, you know then. It's no surprise he was nervous when he filled his head with tying up and chains and such,” Oscar says in disgust.

 

“You weren't minded to indulge him, even a little?” Jane asks, raising her eyebrows.

 

Oscar shifts in his chair. “Ribbons or silk ties, I said. Isn't that enough? But no. Not them.” He squeezes his eyes shut. “Not me either.”

 

“Who?” Luke asks.

 

“It was a crush. He would have got over it.”

 

Luke leans across the desk and hands him a tissue, and Oscar cries.

 

“I would've waited.”

 

***

****

**_Excerpt_ **

****

**_Pure says:_ **

**_So, now you know how it feels._ **

****

**_SlaveBoy says:_ **

**_It's not the same thing!_ **

****

**_Pure says:_ **

**_Remind me, which one is he? The sultry Thai boy or the pale and interesting rocker?_ **

****

**_SlaveBoy says:_ **

**_He's the Thai boy_ **

****

**_Pure says:_ **

**_Is he experienced?_ **

****

**_SlaveBoy says:_ **

**_Not as much as he makes out_ **

****

**_Pure says:_ **

**_And he wants to rectify that with you?_ **

****

**_SlaveBoy says:_ **

**_Well, I don't know_ **

****

**_Pure says:_ **

**_Clarify_ **

****

**_SlaveBoy says:_ **

**_He just said he really likes me and he wondered if we could spend some time together._ **

**_He said he wants to get to know me better_ **

 

***

 

“Scrap books?” Craig says. “I never saw any, but Henry did love his souvenirs.”

 

“You didn't see them in his flat?” Jane asks.

 

“I've never been to his place.”

 

“Oh, you sure?” she asks.

 

“Yes.”

 

“So we won't find any evidence to the contrary?” she asks.

 

Craig shrugs, and leans forward onto the desk. “I've never been there.”

 

“But Henry has been in your home?” Luke asks mildly.

 

“Once or twice,” Craig says, crossing his arms. “Now and then we have meetings, and it makes more sense to do it upstairs.”

 

“We think Henry may have been killed at home.” Jane taps her pen on the table, a constant, steady tattoo.

 

Craig frowns slowly. “So he let the killer in. You think it was someone he knew.”

 

“We'll make a detective of you yet.”

 

Craig leans further forward, meets, and keeps her gaze. “You have to ask me questions then ask, you have to treat me like a suspect then do that, but don't take the piss out me, and don't you ever patronise me.”

 

Jane leans back in her chair.

 

“Craig, we're having a lot of trouble with the evidence,” Luke says earnestly. “I understand if this is embarrassing or difficult for you, and if you want then I'll leave. But we do need to know what happened between you and Henry. We've looked at it every way, but we can't square what you say, and what the evidence says.”

 

“I don't know how to explain it,” Craig says quietly.

 

“It was definitely your semen in his stomach,” Jane remarks. “But you'll be glad to know that we didn't find any in his anus. No unprotected anal sex for you. Aren't you an upstanding citizen?”

 

Craig opens and closes his mouth silently.

 

“When was the last time you saw Henry?” Luke asks.

 

“On the Friday night. Not very late I don't think.”

 

“What time, roughly,” Luke prompts.

 

“Maybe nine-thirty? We were out at some pub.”

 

“What were you drinking?” Jane asks. 

 

“I wasn't.”

 

“So you were out at a pub at around nine-thirty,” Luke says. “Then what happened?”

 

“They were going on somewhere else, I think it was a club.” Craig looks down at his hand. “I wished Henry the best for his trip, and said I hoped to see him again when he came back.”

 

“He was coming back to work?” Jane asks.

 

“Well he said he was, but he was going to be away for a year. Things change.”

 

“Then what?” Luke asks.

 

“I went home, watched some telly, and went to bed.”

 

“What did you watch?” Jane asks.

 

“I don't remember, it was three weeks ago.” Craig pulls a face. “I can't even remember what I had for lunch yesterday.”

 

“Can you explain the presence of traces of trank10 in your semen?” Jane asks. Luke looks at her startled.

 

“I have a prescription,” Craig answers. “I have a chronic back problem which gives me a lot of pain. I'm on the waiting list for an operation, but until then…” He shrugs.

 

“Is that why you're not allowed to drink?” Luke asks. “It's been linked to date rapes, hasn't it?”

 

Craig colours, and plays with a pen on the desk. “It's not marketed as trank10, I didn't know that's what it was at first.”

 

“You drank while you were taking it?” Jane asks with a slight smile. “That must've been fun.”

 

Craig scratches his head and smiles slightly. “It might have been, I don't remember. The first time it happened was my brother's stag night. I only had a half of lager because I was driving, the breathalyser confirmed that.”

 

“You were done for drinking and driving?” Luke asks, surprised.

 

“No, no. They did that as routine apparently. We were arrested for splashing about in the memorial fountain in the square.” Craig shrugs sheepishly. “I was naked.”

 

“Doesn't sound like you,” Luke says, surprised.

 

“That's one reason I'm not supposed to drink, it makes me suggestible.”

 

“What's the other reason?” Jane asks.

 

“I blackout,” Craig says quietly. “I have no memory of what happened afterwards.”

 

Jane leans forward. “So if someone had spiked your drink, then you could've boned Henry and you'd have no memory of it.”

 

Craig is already shaking his head. “I went home, I _remember_ going home.”

 

“It is a theoretical possibility though.”

 

“No… I… I suppose so. They'd have had to drug Henry too though. Wouldn't you have found signs of that?”

 

“Forensics isn't back on Henry,” Luke speaks up.

 

“But the evidence suggests that Henry wouldn't have needed to be drugged to have sex with you,” Jane says mildly. “He had a crush on you, that's a cold, solid fact.”

 

“Henry Buchanan couldn't suck off another man if you sat him down with a copy of Queer As Folk and the gay karma sutra,” Craig says sharply. “Oh I'm sure in his fantasies he was all suave and sophisticated, but the reality was that he was so shy he could barely say three words to me.”

 

“He wouldn't have to be suave and sophisticated with you in a confused and suggestible condition,” Jane observes. “Do your CCTV cameras cover the outside of the building?”

 

“Yes,” Craig says tightly. “I gave you the DVD yesterday.”

 

“So you did,” she agrees. “That'll be interesting viewing. Now, I understand that you and DC Ashton used to work together?”

 

“What?” Craig looks from one to the other. “Yes, briefly. What's that got to do with anything?”

 

“You didn't keep in touch?”

 

“No.”

 

Jane takes a sip of her coffee. “Your staff here seem fairly close knit.”

 

“I suppose so,” Craig says warily.

 

“Not like Sun Hill,” Luke offers with a weak smile. Craig smiles back a little.

 

“Is there much fucking?”

 

“What?” Craig splutters. “That's none of my business!”

 

“Must have an affect at work,” Luke suggests, feeling himself redden. “Especially if people split up or are having bumpy relationships.”

 

Craig grinds his teeth. “This is just a part time job working in a little book shop. It's not the same as being a copper.”

 

“These kids of yours think it's important to keep their secrets. That's fine and dandy for them, but it's bloody _useless_ for us. You know how this works though, Mr Gilmore,” Jane says pleasantly.

 

“We'll find out anyway,” Luke says evenly. “But it'll be faster and cleaner if you just tell us. Who're sleeping together, who're mates, who hate each others guts. I don't believe that you have so little interest in the wellbeing of your staff that you take no notice.”

 

“This is completely irrelevant,” Craig says to him quietly.

 

“Until we know who killed him, and why, we don't know what's relevant,” Jane answers.

 

“It won't go any further,” Luke promises. He tries a small smile. “You know I can be discreet.”

 

Craig bites his lip and nods. “Alright, what do you want to know?”

 

“Everything,” Jane says firmly. “Start with Henry, who were his particular friends?”

 

“He was very close to Viv.”

 

“Sexual?”

 

“No, I don't believe so. Henry didn't seem to think of her that way, and she's…” Craig pauses and sighs. “She's living with one of her tutors.”

 

“Is that allowed?” Luke asks, surprised.

 

“It's frowned on I'm told, but she's twenty three so well over the age of consent. Henry had some antagonism with Oscar…”

 

“We've spoken to Oscar. Viv called him a loud mouth,” Jane remarks. “Always boasting about his conquests.”

 

“Not to me,” Craig says wryly. “But that sounds about right. I'm afraid Oscar tends to protest too much. For all he passes himself off as a playboy, he's rather sensitive I'm afraid. I don't think they genuinely disliked each other though; it seemed too overt for that. Genuine dislike tends to bubble under the surface with the occasional eruption. This was continual aggravation and irritation, that's normally a cover for something else entirely.”

 

“Sexual tension,” Luke suggests.

 

“If you say so.” Craig returns his attention to Jane. “Jie doesn't mix as much as the others. She's closer to Evany, they share a dorm.”

 

“Evany?”

 

“The Nigerian girl with the nose stud. They're both studying psychology. Evany is dating Tye, the white boy with the purple hair, he's a music student. Tye was pretty friendly with Henry in the sit-watching-television-and-say-nothing way that some straight boys are.”

 

Jane smiles slightly and makes a note on her pad. “What about Evany and Henry, were they close?”

 

“Not that I'm aware of. I think he found her and Jie a little… brash. They can be a little exuberant sometimes,” Craig says.

 

“Especially when they're drunk?”

 

“I've never seen either of them drunk,” Craig says, folding his hands. “I've always gone home long before anyone reached the obnoxiously drunk stage.”

 

“What about the other girl out there?”

 

“You mean Sunita? She's on work experience, this is her last week.”

 

“What about you? Are you currently in a sexual relationship?” Jane asks.

 

“No,” Craig says, shifting in his seat.

 

“Why not?”

 

“I'm coming out of a bad relationship. Besides it could affect the divorce proceedings,” Craig says with a shrug.

 

“Divorce?” Luke repeats hollowly.

 

“I'm divorcing Drew for adultery so, if I get caught with my pants down, it could drag things out even longer,” Craig says with a grimace. “I'm probably going to be stuck with his solicitor's fees as it is, so I'd like it over as soon as possible.”

 

“So if you were having a relationship with Henry it'd be in your interest to keep it quiet,” Jane remarks.

 

Craig sighs, and shakes his head. “You think losing a few grand more is worth killing a young man and spending the rest of my life in prison? I don't. Besides if I was going to sleep with someone then it wouldn't be some young lad I work with. That's a fool's mission, and I try not to be a fool twice in the same way.”

 

“Do you have any kids?” Luke stutters.

 

“You two really enjoy asking completely unrelated questions to confuse me, don't you? Why on earth do you ask that?”

 

“No sperm bank babies tracked you down?”

 

“Ah, good thought. Never donated sperm though.”

 

“A big, strapping lad like you?” Jane asks. “Where's your genetic contribution to the continuation of the human race?”

 

“She's taking the piss, isn't she?” Craig asks Luke. The younger man nods silently.

 

“Saving all your spunk for your boyfriends, eh?” Jane asks jovially.

 

“Most of my 'spunk' has probably been landfilled,” Craig says sourly. “Unless the environmental laws have gone insane and started recycling condoms.”

 

“You wear a rubber for a blow job?”

 

“I was just realising I was gay when AIDS was wiping out half the gay men of Europe. If I was dating, which I'm not, then I'd wear a condom for everything short of French kissing. I'm an old married man, Inspector, which means even when we were together I had sex about twice a year on average.”

 

“Define sex.”

 

“Excuse me?” Craig looks at them both.

 

“Define what you mean by sex. Anal, oral, S and M, infantilism, maybe you're a furry. What twisted kink makes your juices flow? And don't tell me that it's men. Being gay these days is about as mainstream as being straight.”

 

“I want my solicitor,” Craig says firmly.

 

“Nobody is accusing you of anything,” Luke says quietly.

 

“Your boss is a lunatic,” Craig says to him. “And I want a witness to it.”

 

Jane shrugs and spreads her hands wide. “We just want to know if you share some of Henry's more… unusual tastes. That's all.”

 

“What the _hell_ are you talking about?”

 

“What kind of porn do you have, Mr Gilmore?” Jane asks.

 

“Don't answer that,” Luke says quickly. He turns to Jane. “He wants his solicitor. We should stop the interview.”

 

“Is that what you want, Mr Gilmore?” Jane asks nicely.

 

“I know how this works, if I insist on my solicitor then you take it as confirmation that I'm your killer. Well I'm not, and the faster you can get that into your head the better. You want to see my porn, Detective Inspector? Fine, let's go look.”

 

***

 

“You have a lot less than Henry,” Jane remarks, putting the magazines back in a neat pile.

 

“Henry's nineteen,” Craig says wryly.

 

Luke walks into the lounge, red-faced, and looking everywhere but at Craig.

 

“Good wank movies?” Jane asks cheerfully.

 

“They're alright,” he mutters.

 

“Henry's thing?”

 

“No.” Luke shifts from foot to foot. “Mostly bog standard fireman, sailor, soldier stuff.”

 

“Mostly?” she prompts.

 

“There's a couple of Gladiator style ones.” Luke waves an imaginary sword. “Fighting and having sex. Not like Henry's kind of thing. Nothing remotely like that.”

 

“What about when you chaps were screwing?”

 

Craig reddens and looks away.

 

“No,” Luke says through gritted teeth.

 

“Good, good,” Jane says, clapping her hands together. “Let's have a look at your computers then.”

 

***

****

**_Excerpt_ **

****

**_SlaveBoy says:_ **

**_Nonono._ **

****

**_Pure says:_ **

**_Why not?_ **

****

**_SlaveBoy says:_ **

**_He's not interested - I'll just humiliate myself_ **

****

**_Pure says:_ **

**_You're not his type_ **

****

**_SlaveBoy says:_ **

**_Not a fuckwit dopefiend you mean?_ **

****

**_Pure says:_ **

**_Ouch, the kitten has claws_ **

****

**_SlaveBoy says:_ **

**_I hate him_ **

**_He comes in here off his head talking to us like we're shit_ **

**_Talking to Craig like_ ** **he's _shit._**

****

**_Pure says:_ **

**_In front of the staff?_ **

****

**_SlaveBoy says:_ **

**_In front of everyone! customers too I wouldn't do that_ **

****

**_Pure says:_ **

**_You'd crawl on the floor like a good little slave_ **

****

**_SlaveBoy says:_ **

**_I'd do whatever he wanted crawl, run, turn pirouettes in a pretty, pink tutu if it made him happy_ **

****

**_Pure says:_ **

**_How is your little follower?_ **

****

**_SlaveBoy says:_ **

**_Oscar?_ **

****

**_Pure says:_ **

**_Oscar, yes. Are you still dating?_ **

****

**_SlaveBoy says:_ **

**_We're not dating_ **

****

**_Pure says:_ **

**_You're not sleeping with him anymore?_ **

****

**_SlaveBoy says:_ **

**_We weren't sleeping together - it's just that sometimes we blow each other_ **

****

*******

****

Luke leans back against the wall as Jane searches through the hard drive.

 

“You okay?” Craig asks quietly.

 

“Me?” Luke asks with a start. “I mean… I'm not the one having my computer examined.”

 

“There's nothing in there,” Craig says with a shrug. “She shouldn't have put you on the spot like that. It was out of order.”

 

Luke smiles sheepishly. “I can't really…”

 

“Can't really say anything negative about your boss to a member of the public? Look at you all professional,” Craig says, smiling back at him.

 

“It took long enough.”

 

“You always had it in you to be a good copper.”

 

“Thanks,” Luke says, surprised. “There were times when I wondered.”

 

“I didn't.”

 

Jane shuts down the PC and turns round. “So clean you could keep your bible verses in it.”

 

“Is that good?” Craig asks, raising his eyebrows.

 

“It's unusual. Right, we'll have a chat with Tye and Evany.”

 

***

 

Tye is a young man with dyed purple hair and scarlet nails. He listens to Jane without reaction, and is silent for a long moment before answering. “Hmm, I don't know.”

 

“You don't know if he was gay, or if he was dating?” Luke asks.

 

“Either.”

 

“Your good friend didn't tell you he was having a tentative romance with someone you both work with?” Jane challenges.

 

“He was?” Tye raises his eyebrows. “Hmm.”

 

***

 

“We've just interviewed your boyfriend, Tye,” Jane says, folding her hands. “It was like getting blood out of a stone.”

 

“He only speaks when he has something to say,” Evany answers.

 

“He didn't seem to have much to say about Henry's death.”

 

“What's there to say? Some _fucker_ killed him, and if you catch him he'll get a few years in a cushy cell with satellite telly and access to the internet.”

 

“I'm glad you're angry about it. You should be angry. Someone has ended a young man's life, and his friends seem more interested in keeping their own secrets than in helping us catch his killer,” Jane says harshly.

 

Evany meets her gaze. “What do you want to know?”

 

“What was his relationship with Mr Gilmore?”

 

“Henry had a schoolboy crush on him. It was all on his side, and I don't think Mr Gilmore even knew about it.”

 

“Henry didn't make an approach?” Luke asks.

 

“You're joking, aren't you? Henry doesn't, didn't, do making the first approach. What he did was gawp about with his mouth open like a stunned haddock.”

 

Jane covers her mouth and tries not to laugh.

 

“Right,” Luke says smoothly. “Would you say it was obvious?”

 

“It was obvious he was nervous around Mr Gilmore. But Henry was a little jumpy anyway, and Mr Gilmore makes most of us nervous.”

 

***

****

**_Excerpt_ **

****

**_SlaveBoy says:_ **

**_Every time I walk into the shop and see him my stomach turns over_ **

**_He'll be talking to me - about my shifts or something - and I have NO idea what he's said because I've been staring at him without listening_ **

**_I don't know what I'll do away for so long. By the time I come back he'll probably have shacked up with some other junkie tosser_ **

****

**_Pure says:_ **

**_You're just a till monkey. If you want his attention then you'll have to let him fuck you._ **

****

**_SlaveBoy says:_ **

**_Let him?? I want him to!!!_ **

****

**_Pure says:_ **

**_There are two reasons he won't screw you now: 1) You work for him and he's the 'honourable' type, 2) He's nervous._ **

****

**_SlaveBoy says:_ **

**_I thought it was because I wasn't his type?_ **

****

**_Pure says:_ **

**_You'll never be more than a casual fuck because you aren't his type. He's not sleeping with you because you work for him and because he's nervous. Do you get it now?_ **

****

**_SlaveBoy says:_ **

**_I think so_ **

****

**_Pure says:_ **

**_But you've got a tight virgin arse, that's always a plus._ **

****

**_SlaveBoy says:_ **

**_I don't think I make him nervous - annoyed maybe_ **

****

**_Pure says:_ **

**_Not you, being with you. Being with anyone._ **

****

**_SlaveBoy says:_ **

**_The way I'm nervous about full sex?_ **

****

**_Pure says:_ **

**_No of course not. You're nervous about being injured physically. You want it but you're afraid. He's nervous of intimacy._ **

****

**_SlaveBoy says:_ **

**_But he's been married!_ **

****

**_Pure says:_ **

**_That's the point._ **

****

**_***_ **

****

**_Excerpt_ **

****

**_Pure says:_ **

**_Is he going on this night out you're having?_ **

****

**_SlaveBoy says:_ **

**_Yes, but he always goes home early._ **

****

**_Pure says:_ **

**_After the pub crawl is done, you should visit him at home._ **

****

**_SlaveBoy says:_ **

**_Okay, why?_ **

****

**_Pure says:_ **

**_I think you'd find him much more amenable. In the right frame of mind he'll realise that you're quite attractive._ **

****

**_SlaveBoy says:_ **

**_You think so? Really? Why would he be different at home?_ **

****

**_Pure says:_ **

**_He'd be fairly relaxed and you wouldn't be his employee any more. I think you underestimate how strongly he feels against that._ **

****

**_SlaveBoy says:_ **

**_You think so?_ **

****

**_Pure says:_ **

**_Trust me_ **

****

*******

 

Jane holds out her hand. “Thank you for your cooperation, Mr Gilmore. I'm sure we'll be back.”

 

“I bet you will.”

 

***

 

Luke drives along the road.

 

“That was a very nice move, telling me to stop the interview,” Jane says, grinning at Luke.

 

“You're turning me into a terribly cynical person.”

 

“Thank you, I try,” Jane says. “We need to check out this DVD and see _exactly_ how Henry spent his last day at the shop.”

 

“I thought you wanted me to go through his chat logs,” Luke protests. “There are tons of them.”

 

“Hmm, that is a crappier job. You better do that, and I'll check out the CCTV. If we find anything then we'll have to go back to Oscar, he's the only person who seems aware that Henry even _had_ a life outside of the shop.” Jane turns her head, watching a handsome young man as he walks down the pavement.

 

“Maybe he didn't. If he was as shy as everyone makes out perhaps he really didn't know that many people,” Luke says quietly. “How big was your social circle when you were nineteen?”

 

“Me? About five people. Did we find out what happened to Henry's parents?”

 

“Killed in that the big explosion at that private club in London. Something council, wasn't it?” Luke turns at the lights. “It's still all classified so I couldn't find out much more info.”

 

“That was what… ten years ago? They're not going to catch the bombers now.” Jane drums her fingers on the dashboard. “Who brought him up, the cousin?”

 

“No, some family friend. I'll check the name when I get back.”

 

***

 

Craig pinches the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. “Oscar, please go home. Viv will go with you…”

 

“I'm not going anywhere!” he sobs.

 

Evany and Jie exchange glances as Craig puts an arm around Oscar's shoulders and whispers into his ear. Oscar nods, and sniffles noisily. 

 

“Viv,” Craig says mildly. “Please take Oscar home, would you? I think you can get along home yourself now.”

 

“Um, okay.” Viv puts an arm around the young man's waist and ushers him out.

 

“So, do we know when he's arriving?” Jie asks.

 

Craig folds his arms. “His plane is due tomorrow morning. It might take a while to clear customs with all the new security measures.”

 

“Maybe we should be shut down,” Evany says quietly. “We couldn't even protect our own. What good are we?”

 

“Don't talk like that!” Jie snaps. “What happened to Henry was terrible, but we've helped lots of people…”

 

“Enough!” Craig says forcefully. “I'm sure he's going to have more on his mind than us. This isn't the time for petty squabbling. We're all upset about Henry, but blaming each other won't help.”

 

“What will?” Tye muses quietly.

 

***

 

Jane pauses the DVD, as the door to the AV suite opens and Luke walks in with a tray of food.

 

“I brought lunch.”

 

“Aww, I thought you'd come to ravish me.” She wrinkles her nose. “Whatever it is stinking of garlic better be yours.”

 

“Thought you might want to try a more subtle form of torture tonight,” Luke retorts.

 

“For a vanilla guy you think about S and M a heck of a lot.” Jane sniffs her pasta salad suspiciously.

 

“The garlic is mine,” he laughs, sitting on a spare chair. “It's a meatball sandwich.”

 

“You and your balls. Speaking of which, we have a sighting of Henry _after_ the party broke up.”

 

“Where? Who saw him?” Luke asks.

 

“I did.” Jane nods at the monitor. “He's on the CCTV. At two thirty am he turned up at the shop. Look for yourself when you've finished your…”

 

Luke puts the sandwich down immediately and moves over to the DVD player.

Onscreen Henry can be seen walking up the stairs and knocking on the back door. After a couple of seconds the door is opened and Craig appears. After a brief conversation he goes inside with Craig. Luke fast forwards until the door opens and Henry lets himself out. Luke quickly rewinds the DVD until Henry makes his first appearance.   

 

Luke pauses the DVD and turns quickly to Jane. “Look what he's wearing!”

 

“A clothesline?” Jane asks tartly.

 

“White t-shirt and boxers. That's what he sleeps in, Henry woke him up. It wasn't a pre-arranged visit,” Luke says, grabbing the remote and spinning the DVD onwards.

 

Onscreen the door opens and Henry stumbles out, shutting the door behind him. He walks away and out of shot.

 

“How long was he up there, twenty minutes?” Luke asks.

 

Jane checks her notes. “Thirty-five. You have your hypothesis face on.”

 

“Henry has something in his hand, going in, and coming out. Let's say that this is when Henry blows Craig, right? There's no other opportunity that we know of.”

 

“No, Louis narrowed the time of death to twenty days.” Jane smiles at his expression. “Gross bugs and stuff.”

 

“I didn't need to know that. Anyway, let's look at it from Henry's point of view. He's about to leave on his gap year, he has a long term crush on his boss, and he's never had the guts to say anything. So, he's been out drinking, and maybe he's got his nerve up. He goes around and wakes Craig up. At some point while he's there he spikes Craig's drink…”

 

“Whoa cowboy, spikes Gilmore's drink? That's a leap.”

 

“Henry's last online chat was three am that morning. That's what… half an hour after he left the shop? That's about right for walking that distance, isn't it?”

 

“In these heels I only walk on _backs_.”

 

“Well… I do walk, and I think the timing works. Anyway, he got back and immediately got on line and started talking to his buddy, Pure. When I read it I couldn't understand what was going on, but I think it makes a lot more sense now. Hang on, I'll get the print-out for the chat transcript now!” Luke turns and scurries from the room.

 

Jane blinks and shakes her head. A few minutes later Luke returns clutching a print-out.

 

“Here, this bit.”

 

**_SlaveBoy says:_ **

**_Do you think people ever end up with someone who isn't their type? I mean, it has to happen doesn't it?_ **

****

**_Pure says:_ **

**_You think you'll spread your legs and he'll fall for you?_ **

****

**_SlaveBoy says:_ **

**_No, no, of course not. I mean that'd be silly. Wouldn't it be silly?_ **

****

**_Pure says:_ **

**_Yes, you'd have to be amazing in bed._ **

****

**_SlaveBoy says:_ **

**_Fat chance of that_ **

****

**_Pure says:_ **

**_You must be getting proficient at oral sex. All that practice with your Thai-boy._ **

****

**_SlaveBoy says:_ **

**_So what, I stroll up to his flat and say 'hey Mr Gilmore, I give a great blow job, how about it?'_ **

****

**_Pure says:_ **

**_Don't be sarcastic_ **

****

**_SlaveBoy says:_ **

**_Sorry_ **

****

**_Pure says:_ **

**_Tell him how you feel._ **

****

**_SlaveBoy says:_ **

**_What if he just feels sorry for me?_ **

****

**_Pure says:_ **

**_Then you get a pity fuck._ **

****

**_SlaveBoy says:_ **

**_I don't want a pity fuck!_ **

****

**_Pure says:_ **

**_Ah, to be so young that you can turn down a perfectly good fuck._ **

****

**_SlaveBoy says:_ **

**_There's nothing good about pity_ **

****

**_Pure says:_ **

**_You just have to help relax a little. I guarantee that he'll come around._ **

****

**_SlaveBoy says:_ **

**_Well I don't know how to do that_ **

****

Jane raises her eyebrows. “Henry was a little on the naïve side.”

“It gets worse. This is the last online conversation he had:”

****

**_SlaveBoy says:_ **

**_Are you there?_ **

****

**_Pure says:_ **

**_Run all the way home did you? Amazed you had the energy._ **

****

**_SlaveBoy says:_ **

**_You said he'd just be more relaxed!_ **

****

**_Pure says:_ **

**_Wasn't he?_ **

****

**_SlaveBoy says:_ **

**_He was weird_ **

**_I don't know, like confused_ **

**_He's going to hate me!_ **

****

**_Pure says:_ **

**_He won't remember._ **

****

**_SlaveBoy says:_ **

**_Why not?_ **

**_he's going to be alright isn't he?_ **

**_I'll go back and check_ **

****

**_Pure says:_ **

  1. **_He'll be fine. It's happened before and he's always fine._**



****

**_SlaveBoy says:_ **

**_I only put a tiny bit of vodka in his tea like you said!_ **

**_WHAT DO YOU MEAN IT'S HAPPENED BEFORE?_ **

****

**_Pure says:_ **

**_He's fine. I promise you. He's not hurt and he's in no danger._ **

****

**_SlaveBoy says:_ **

**_Why did he seem almost drunk??_ **

****

**_Pure says:_ **

**_He's on medication, the alcohol reacts with it. But don't worry, it's fine._ **

****

**_SlaveBoy says:_ **

**_What medication???_ **

****

**_Pure says:_ **

**_It doesn't matter._ **

****

**_SlaveBoy says:_ **

**_It matters to me! What the fuck have I done??_ **

****

**_Pure says:_ **

**_It's trank10_ **

****

**_SlaveBoy says:_ **

**_I know that name. Why do I know that? I'll google._ **

****

**_Pure says:_ **

**_It was in the news._ **

****

**_SlaveBoy says:_ **

**_Date rapes? FUCK_ **

****

**_SlaveBoy has signed out_ **

 

Jane brushes her hair behind her ear. “Go, on.”

 

“What?”

 

“Jump up and down squealing 'I told you so, I told you so. Craig's not a murderer!', you know you want to.”

 

Luke just grins at her. “Can I have a rain check?”

 

“So, this 'Pure' character, he shows up in a lot of the other chats?”

 

“Most of them. There are a few with Jie, some with the chap that brought him up, er, a Mr Giles. He's in America, by the way, but apparently he's on his way back for the funeral.” Luke tucks his hands in his pockets with the thumbs sticking over the top.

 

“You'll be off to make googly eyes at Gilmore tonight then.” Jane smirks, looking at him from under her lashes. “Give him the news, good and bad.”

 

“Well…” Luke trails off and shrugs.

 

Jane ruffles his hair, and turns off the DVD equipment. “Full disclosure is my prerogative.”

 

“It's carved across my heart, Ma'am,” Luke says gravely. “Besides, I doubt Craig would ask.”

 

“What we need is that forensics report. You go and stamp on their fingers, and I'll authorise a public information report on this Giles chap, and the lads at the shop.”

 

***

 

“They actually went through your porn?” David raises his eyebrows as he jots down notes.

 

“I don't know what they were looking for. The lunatic DI said something about them looking for something that Henry was into. Whatever the hell that means.” Craig rubs his forehead.

 

“They didn't elaborate?”

 

“Not really.”

 

“So… tell me again how you gave them permission to search your things without discussing it with me first?” David asks.

 

“I know, I know.” Craig waves a hand.

 

“You're paying me on retainer, Craig. Paying me, and not using me when you need me… not the brightest idea you've ever had.”

 

“Anyway, what does Drew have to say for himself?”

 

David blinks, and flips through his notebook quickly. “Hmm, well. He's demanding a share of the house, and a fifty per cent share of the business.”

 

“He had _no_ input in the business, and the building was bought with _my_ injury compensation!” Craig objects.

 

“To be perfectly honest with you, Craig, he's on fairly shaky ground with the business since that was established after your separation. It highly unlikely that any judge would award it to him anyway.”

 

“And the building?” Craig leans forward with his hands between his knees. 

 

David taps his pen on the arm of the chair. “It's very unlikely that you'll be forced to sell. He's more likely to be awarded a lump sum.”

 

“More than I offered?”

 

“Not necessarily.” David crosses his legs at the knee. “It will depend on the judge if we go to arbitration. The likelihood is that if we hold firm he'll get desperate and accept an offer before we get to court.”

 

Craig rubs his eyes wearily. “I just want it over.”

 

“I know.” David holds up his hand. “But that's what they're counting on. We just have to wait them out. Drew needs hard cash a lot more than you do. Drug addicts are all about instant gratification. He won't be able to wait for a larger pay-out indefinitely.”

 

“He's waited this long. I just hope you're right.”

 

***

 

Jane wanders back into the office and finds Luke poring over a sheaf of paper.

 

“Finally rescued the forensics report?”

 

“Yes, Ma'am. Both for Henry's body and for his flat.” Luke takes another sip of his coffee. “They found a single blood spatter down between the floorboards in the kitchen, and another two spatters in the bathroom. Not enough to do a DNA check, but the blood in the kitchen is the same group as Henry's.”

 

“Don't hold out on me. What about the bathroom?”

 

“Different blood group,” Luke says with a grin. “Same blood group as the saliva in the Coca Cola bottle.”

 

“Oh you little stunner. And what else?”

 

“You're insatiable,” Luke mutters. “Two thrills not enough for you?”

 

“Mere foreplay, my boy, where's the big bang?”

 

“A fingerprint.”

 

“What?” Jane raises her eyebrows. “Where?”

 

“On the bullet. It was somewhere around here.” Luke taps the bridge of his nose. “But in the middle. When they took it out they found a nice clear thumb print.”

 

Jane grins slowly. “Enough for comparison?”

 

“It didn't get a match on the known offenders list, or on the police employee database. _However,_ it does match a partial print found at a shooting six months ago.” Luke flourishes the papers at her. “The bullet was almost certainly fired from the same gun. The victim was a Mr James Fowler, age forty six.”

 

“Forty six?” Jane asks, curiously. “Belly full of semen?”

 

“Afraid not. He was found tied to his bed though, and apparently not of his own choice. He'd been drugged beforehand, and it appeared that he'd tried to break his bonds. There were no obvious signs of sexual interference, but he'd been stripped down to his boxers.”

 

“That's even odder than Henry. At least he _got_ laid before he was killed. Who's the SIO?”

 

“DI Joss McIvor. The investigation was scaled down after twelve weeks; no leads, and precious little evidence. I've requested their files, maybe there's a connection somewhere.” Luke looks at her expression. “What've I missed?”

 

“Was he gay?”

 

“I dunno, it doesn't say in the briefing. I'll check. Why?”

 

“One tied to the bed, and the other known to be almost exclusively interested in discipline.” Jane taps her fingers on the desk. “Anything else?”

 

“No sign of the memory card. Hmm… Henry hadn’t ejaculated in the forty-eight hours before his death. There were no signs of violence on the body, and there was no sign of drugs. They believe he was wearing cotton pyjamas before he was dumped.”

 

“Clutching a teddy bear too no doubt.”

 

“I’m not even touching that one,” Luke says smoothly. “The shot was approximately from three feet away as we knew, but angled slightly to the right. It seems as though Louis made a bit of a boo-boo. Henry _was_ kneeling down, but on all fours. Given the size of the room it seems unlikely they were having sex. Anyway, upshot is they’re now saying our killer is probably around five foot eight.”

 

“Oh great, so now our prime suspect is… what, Oscar in high heels?”

 

“Do you know that he had the nerve to refer to _me_ as short?” Luke snorts.

 

“Oh honey, you should drop your pants sometime. Show him what a big boy you are. So, what else is there?”

 

“Er… oh. One late thing from the IT bods. They've traced the emails that Jie received supposedly from Henry.” Luke shrugs sadly. “They were all sent from public places around town. The library, a couple of net cafes. They weren't even real emails, just online postcards with Henry's name signed.”

 

“Easy to fake then.”

 

“Are they?” Luke asks.

 

“Hmm, yeah. You just fill a form in online. No handwriting to compare, and the only record of the sender is the one you choose to make. Our boy Pure isn't so red-hot on computers.” Jane smirks at Luke. “I'd make a _much_ more believable set of fake messages.”

 

“He probably didn't know the password to Henry's laptop.”

 

“I dare say, even so it's amateurish at best.” Jane twists a lock of hair around her finger.

 

“Maybe he was panicking for some reason. Can't imagine any other reason he'd email them to Jie and not Oscar,” Luke remarks.

 

Jane stares at him. “Say that again?”

 

“I… I can't imagine any other reason for emailing Jie?”

 

***

 

Craig has just locked up the shop and gone upstairs when the telephone rings.

 

“Hello?”

 

“Uh, hi. It's Luke. Will you be in this evening? I have some things we need to discuss.”

 

Craig tucks the phone between his head and his shoulder as he hastily moves his shoes from the middle of the floor to the shoe rack. “Both of you?”

 

“No, just me,” Luke says quickly.

 

“Right. I'll be in.”

 

“Okay, I'll be about… forty minutes.”

 

Thirty-seven minutes later the doorbell is rung. Out on the step Luke, dressed smartly in dark blue jeans, a white t-shirt, and a suede jacket, smiles at Craig nervously.

 

“Evening, um, can I come in?”

 

Craig looks down at the six pack of beer bottles that Luke is carrying.

 

“Alcohol free,” Luke says quickly, holding it up.

 

Craig opens the door and lets the younger man in.

 

“I'll get a couple of glasses.”

 

Luke stands awkwardly in the lounge until he hears Craig say something in the kitchen. He walks into the small room but stays in the doorway.

 

“Sorry? I didn't hear what you said.”

 

“I was wondering if bringing beer was how you play good cop nowadays,” Craig says with a slight smile. “Seems much more civilized than it used to be.”

 

“We didn't really get off to a good start.”

 

Craig hands him a glass of beer and the rest of the bottle. “Does your boss know that you're here?”

 

“Jane? Sure.”

 

Craig raises an eyebrow. “Right, of course.”

 

“She does!”

 

Craig laughs, and walks out to the lounge. “What did you want to talk about?”

 

“You're not a suspect anymore,” Luke says, sitting at the other end of the couch.

 

“Why not? Did you finally sort out the mix-up with the semen?”

 

Luke chews his bottom lip. “There wasn't one. Wait, hear me out, okay? Henry seems like he was a nice enough lad, but he… he fell into dubious company.”

 

“What does that mean?” Craig asks suspiciously.

 

“We checked the CCTV from the shop for his last day. Obviously you didn't.”

 

“I had no reason to.”

 

Luke puts his glass down, and looks Craig in the eye. “Henry came to your place in the early hours of Saturday morning. You let him into your flat, and later on he let himself out. I can't explain how we know, but believe me, that we _do_ know that while he was in your flat he spiked your tea, or cocoa, or whatever.”

 

Craig pales, and stares at his beer. “I never told Henry about that.”

 

“No, he was persuaded that it was just going to make you a little more relaxed.”

 

“So… you're saying that I was raped, are you?”

 

“Well, from what we can tell it was just the oral sex,” Luke says uncomfortably. “It doesn't look like Henry had ever… you didn't top him, and he hadn't ejaculated in the forty eight hours before his death. I don't know whether you consider that… I don't know.”

 

Luke puts his hand over Craig's for a moment. He sees the older man's shoulders tense, and he silently removes his hand.

 

“Should I call someone?”

 

“No. I'll be alright. What a silly little sod,” Craig says heavily. “He didn't even get laid.” He rubs his forehead. “Don't tell Oscar, will you? I don't feel like waiting until he fetches a chair so that he can punch me in the mouth.”

 

“I thought you weren't sure if there was anything between them or not?” Luke says, smiling.

 

“I wasn't, but apparently they were sort of dating. Although I suspect the 'sort of' was Henry's choice.” Craig finally looks back at Luke. “Déjà vu, eh?”

 

“Well, if I'd known how easy it was to get you into bed, I'd have gone out with you the first time you'd asked me out for a drink,” Luke says smiling.

 

“After the Sean debacle?” Craig scratches his forehead. “I wasn't even trying to get you into bed. I just wanted to thank you. I was so grateful for you being so good about it.”

 

Luke takes a gulp of his beer. “That just showed how fucked I was. We were.”

 

“How do you mean?”

 

“You were grateful, you were always grateful when I managed to behave like a halfway decent human being and stopped treating you like a piece of dirt.” Luke leans back. “You should've just hit me.”

 

“I didn't want to hit you. I'm not really a violent person.”

 

“If I was you I'd have wanted to hit me. But it's a long time ago. I bet you've had lots of silly, confused boys throwing themselves at you since then,” Luke suggests. 

 

“A few. Maybe a hundred,” Craig suggests, waggling his eyebrows.

 

Luke laughs, and runs his fingers through his hair. “But nobody now?”

 

“Reciprocally? No. I mean… I got really burned with Drew. I know I said I haven't been dating because I was worried about affecting the settlement, and that's partly true, but mostly I've been worrying about getting hurt again.”

 

“I nearly got married. A few years ago,” Luke confesses.

 

“Man or woman?”

 

“I'm not bisexual.” Luke takes another gulp of beer. “Came to terms with being gay a long time ago. His name was Leo, and he was madly in love with me.”

 

“Naturally.”

 

“I did love him. But, not the right way, and not as much as he loved me. Story of my life,” Luke says, shaking his head.

 

“What happened?”

 

“I was a dick, like normal. He was trying to sort out arrangements and I kept changing my mind, just making it as difficult as possible I guess. We'd been going out two years so it's understandable he thought we should be making things official,” Luke shrugs.

 

Craig moves slightly closer. “Did you even _want_ to get married to him?”

 

“I hadn't really thought about it until he started talking about it. Then we had a _huge_ row over whether we should have red or pink carnations, and that was it. He dumped me.” Luke puts his arm on the back of the sofa. “Such a relief.”

 

“Nothing like being divorced to put you off getting married,” Craig says wryly.

 

“But you'd do it again, wouldn't you? I mean you're…”

 

“What?” Craig asks, curiously.

 

“Well… a romantic, and pretty old fashioned. That's not a bad thing!” Luke says quickly.

 

“Would you? If it was your choice rather than someone haranguing you into it.”

 

“If I was in love, really, really, in love with someone then I would.” Luke moves up the sofa. Now the two men are side by side.

 

“Really, really, really?” Craig teases.

 

“No,” Luke smiles sweetly. “Just really, really.”

 

“Ah.” Craig nods wisely. “Are you seeing anyone at the moment?”

 

“No.”

 

“So, hypothetically, if I kissed you, I wouldn't be at risk of being battered by a jealous boyfriend?”

 

“Not in the least.”

 

Craig leans forward and kisses Luke. Luke's fingers creep along Craig's knee and find his hand. He entwines their fingers and with his other hand, unbuttons Craig's collar.

 

***

 

Luke is lying on his side with Craig spooned behind him. Craig walks his fingers along the scars on Luke's back. “What happened here?”

 

“Hmm? Oh, I was on a raid. We found a lot of weapons and ammo but the suspects put up a fight. A box of bullets got knocked onto the gas fire.” Luke gestures with his hand. “Bang!”

 

“One of your superhero stunts finally backfired? As it were.”

 

“Well, that would've been nicely poetic.” Luke rolls over to face Craig. “But I just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. I didn't do too badly.”

 

“It looks really nasty.”

 

“Just flesh wounds,” Luke promises. He runs his fingers through Craig's chest hair. “Nobody was badly hurt. Just abrasions.”

 

“That was lucky.”

 

“Lucky Luke, that's me. What happened here?” he circles a round scar on Craig's shoulder with his finger. “I don't remember that.”

 

“That was a mole,” Craig says wryly. “Doctor suggested I get it lasered off.”

 

“Oh! I remember that,” Luke says happily. “The mole I mean, not the lasering obviously.”

 

“You have a good memory for moles.”

 

Luke smiles, and leans up on his elbow. “When you went down on me, in the hotel room, I looked down and I could see that mole on your shoulder. I could see all the pores in your skin and the tiny, little hairs on the back of your neck.”

 

Craig slips his hand under the covers and between Luke's legs. “Has he woken up again?” he asks hopefully.

 

“Nearly, still a little sleepy.” Luke giggles as Craig pushes him onto his back and wriggles down the bed until he is facing Luke's groin.

 

“Wakey, wakey, rise and shine. Don't be shy, young man. Ah, there he is.”

 

“He doesn't normally get this much exercise,” Luke says wryly. “I suspect that he's a little shell-shocked by all the attention.” Luke arches his back off the bed. “Mmm, do that again?”

 

***

 

Luke wakes with the sunrise. He follows the quiet sound of movement into the spare bedroom where Craig is practising parries and thrusts with a heavy looking sword.

 

“This is a new one on me,” Luke remarks, rubbing his eyes. “Is it for upper body strength or what?”

 

Craig, distracted mid sweep, almost over balances. He lays the sword to one side, and turns to Luke. “Good, er, good morning. Um, yes, upper body strength.”

 

“Seems to be working,” Luke says, flicking a shy look at Craig's bare torso.

 

“Let's go back to bed, eh? It's still early.”

 

Luke glances at his wrist. “Oh, left my watch on the bedside table,” he says sheepishly.

 

Craig takes his hand and tows him back towards the bedroom.

 

***

 

Jane wraps her gown around her more tightly and opens the front door. “Aaron?” she asks, looking at the young man standing holding a hamper in his arms. “What are you doing here?”

 

“I thought I could come and make you b-breakfast,” he says brightly.

 

Jane smiles uneasily.

 

***

 

Luke pokes his head out of the shower. “Sorry?”

 

“I said that your trousers are ringing.” Craig holds up the offending clothing.

 

“Thanks.” Luke pads across to him, dripping water on the floor. He carefully reaches into the trouser pocket and pulls out his phone. Craig smiles and leaves, shutting the bathroom door behind him. “Hello, Luke Ashton? Oh hello, Ma'am. Well, no, I'm at the shop.” Luke reaches for a towel and begins drying himself off one-handed. “Yes, thanks,” he says, blushing. “Who's that? I didn't think you let them talk. Oh, you're _joking_!”

 

***

 

“It was just Jane,” Luke announces as he walks into the kitchen. “Ooh, are you making breakfast?”

 

“I am. What did you tell her?”

 

“About what?” Luke reaches past Craig and pulls the toast from the toaster. “Owie, hot, hot.” He drops the toast onto the waiting plate and reaches for the margarine.

 

“You know, this.” Craig gestures at them both with the jar of marmalade.

 

“Marmalade?” Luke asks. “I think she already knows about that.”

 

“You and I. I don't want to drop you in it with her.”

 

Luke spreads a thick layer of marmalade onto a piece of toast, takes a large bite, and grins at Craig. “You don't have much faith in me, do you?”

 

“What d'you mean?” Craig sets the breakfast things on the table, and pulls Luke over after him.

 

“I told you that Jane knew I was here last night.” Luke sits down and takes a sip of tea.

 

“Yes, alright.” Craig takes the remainder of the toast from Luke and eats it. “But you only asked her if you could let me know I'd been cleared from suspicion, didn't you?”

 

Luke helps himself to some more toast and marmalade. “Not exactly. It doesn't matter anyway, does it?”

 

“It might, depending on what lie you need me to tell when she turns up again asking questions.”

 

Luke finishes a mouthful of toast, and frowns. “You don't need to lie to her, and I wouldn’t ask her to. She knows that we had a brief relationship at Sun Hill. She has a rough idea of what happened there. She knows… she knows how I feel about you. She knows that I came here last night, and that I'm here now.” Luke takes a sip of tea. “I've worked with her for four years, Craig. She tells me everything, I tell her everything. That's how it works.”

 

“Everything?” Craig raises his eyebrows.

 

“Well,” Luke says with a blush. “Within reason. Besides, generally her stuff is _much_ worse.”

 

“Worse than sleeping with a suspect?”

 

“You're not a suspect anymore,” Luke points out. “Besides, I never really thought you were.”

 

“You thought I'd been sleeping with Henry,” Craig answers.

 

“There's a big difference between sleeping with a handsome young man, and killing him!”

 

“Apparently not to your DI.”

 

“Sour, much?” Luke asks, raising his eyebrows. “You were in the job, you still remember how it goes. There's nothing personal in it.”

 

“When you're being suspected of killing someone it feels pretty personal,” Craig grumbles.

 

“I know. I got the third degree when Kerry was killed. If I'd been a straight bloke I'd have been pretty high on their list, but they seemed to rule me out once they realised I was gay.”

 

“Did they ever catch anyone for that?”

 

“It was that psycho copper.”

 

“Yeah? Which one?” Craig raises his eyebrows.

 

“I've got to get ready.” Luke leans across the table and kisses him on the cheek. “Jane's going to be here soon.”

 

“She's picking you up? Things have changed in CID.”

 

“I don't think it'll be happening again, don't worry.”

 

***

 

“Good morning!” Luke says cheerfully as he climbs into the car.

 

“You look well shagged,” Jane says approvingly.

 

“I am, very well shagged indeed. How about you?”

 

“You _are_ in a good mood. Is he going to shag you well again?”

 

Luke taps the side of his head with his knuckles. “Touch wood.”

 

“That's very cute, Pinocchio.” Jane spins the car around a corner. “I got an early morning surprise visitor bearing a breakfast hamper.” 

 

“I didn't think you liked surprises.”

 

“I hate surprises.”

 

“Hmm. So, the breakfast didn't make up for the surprise?” Luke asks.

 

Jane makes a rocking gesture with her hand. “Taking the sex into account, fifty-fifty I'd say.” She looks at the expression on his face. “I _really_ hate surprises.”

 

“So you going to tell me where we're going then?”

 

“We're off to see DI McIvor. See if we can find a link between Henry and this chap Fowler. Aside from the fingerprint that is.”

 

***

 

This early in the morning the airport is quiet. Craig and Jie are waiting in the arrivals lounge, Jie reading a magazine, and Craig drinking a coffee. Passengers begin to come through the double doors.

 

Jie raises an eyebrow, but doesn't look up from her magazine. “I hear American accents.”

 

“He's here,” Craig says, handing his coffee cup in at the small coffee stand. Jie puts her magazine into her handbag and follows him.

 

An older man, handsome like a rather rugged school teacher, dressed in well-pressed jeans and a smart denim shirt is looking around. He spots Craig and nods in welcome.

 

Craig walks over and offers his hand. “Mr Giles.”

 

“Mr Gilmore.” He shakes Craig's hand, gives Jie a quick appraising look, and smiles at her politely. “This must be Miss Ming.” He offers her his hand. “It's a pleasure to meet you.”

 

“We're all so sorry about Henry,” Jie says, shaking his hand.

 

“I know that he was very happy to be with you all,” Mr Giles says seriously.

 

Craig steps aside as several very overweight tourists blunder through. “Perhaps we ought to move along. Before we get trampled.”

 

“Indeed so,” Giles agrees.

 

***

 

DI Joss McIvor is a fifty-something man, thick around the middle, and thin on top. He sprawls back in the chair and drums his fingers on the desk.

 

“The shit-stabber?”

 

Jane's arm slams out and catches Luke mid chest. She steps forward and twists her foot so that the heel of her shoe presses down on the toe of McIvor's shoe just to the point where his eyes widen. “Inspector, I can see you're the kind of man who prides himself on calling a spade, a spade, and mistakes rudeness for honesty. So I'll be quite blunt. You use _that_ term, or any other similar term, in my presence again and I'll _impale_ your foot to the floor. And then I'll let DC Ashton here smash your face in. He's not the tallest, but he is extremely well built. A girl notices these things. If it came to it I'd be happy to tell any board of inquiry that you attacked DC Ashton first. I trust that’s clear enough for you?”

 

McIvor nods once. Jane removes her stiletto heel from his foot and sits down.

 

“Let's start again, shall we? The unfortunate and untimely death of _Mr_ James Fowler, six months ago. Did you have any suspects?”

 

“Not really. Single, no close family, what money he had was left to some charity.”

 

“Previous boyfriends?”

 

“His friends came up with a half-dozen names. We checked them out, none of them seemed like go-ers,” McIvor says with a shrug.

 

“Alibis?” Luke asks.

 

The older man shrugs, and sneers at him. “Mostly shacked up with other men.” 

 

“Can you tell us anything else about him?” Jane asks, frustrated. “A twelve week investigation must have turned up more than that.”

 

“Probably, I don't remember. It was six months ago. I've slept since then.”

 

“Oh, just give us the files,” Jane snaps.

 

***

 

The file is barely fifty pages long. Luke flicks through it with a sour expression and a curled up lower lip. “This is… well, if this is twelve weeks work then for eleven weeks they were on holiday.”

 

“Good.”

 

“Good? How's that good?”

 

“Because I'm a lazy arse, and it's easier to find something other people have overlooked, if they've overlooked _everything_ ,” Jane says promptly. “What've they got?”

 

“Hmm, not much. Pretty boring, middle-aged, solicitor. A few long term relationships but not at the time. He was dating, but not having much luck according to his friends.” Luke smiles wryly. “Too much of a nice guy according to one of his friends.”

 

“Niggle.”

 

“Huh?”

 

“Something's niggling,” Jane says, chewing her lower lip. “I can't put my finger on it. I will though.”

 

***

 

Craig pours the tea, and leans back in his chair. Mr Giles stirs his tea and takes a small sip.

 

“Has there been any word from the police?”

 

“Not really,” Craig answers. “Although I wouldn't really expect anything. It's not practice to issue updates.”

 

Mr Giles rubs his forehead. “And Henry's death is definitely within their remit?”

 

“Oh, yes. Death by gun shot wound. We did… look into it. Oscar's coming on well with his casting.” Craig sighs and shrugs. “Jie would be a lot happier if she could spare the taxpayers the expense of locking Henry's murderer up.”

 

“Yes, there are times when it is very tempting,” Mr Giles agrees with a sigh. “I should go and talk to the police. They will find a lot of correspondence from me. I wouldn't want them to think I had something to hide.”

 

“I'm so sorry. I keep thinking I should've done… something.”

 

“Yes, I thought that way when Jenny died. But there was nothing I could've done.” He smiles slightly and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Well, I could've died. Although I'm not entirely convinced that would've been helpful it certainly appealed at the time.”

 

“Henry was a good lad.”

 

“Yes.” Mr Giles sits up a little straighter. “His parents would have been very proud I'm sure.”

 

Craig digs in his pocket and pulls out a business card. “This is the SIO.”

 

“Ah, good.” Mr Giles looks at the card and then looks at Craig over the top of his glasses. “And an SIO is what exactly?”

 

“Senior investigating officer, she's DI Safardin.”

 

“Easy to slip back into the terminology, hmm?”

 

“Well, I, yes. I er… I should tell you that she's working with a DC Ashton. Luke Ashton, I used to know him quite a while ago,” Craig explains.

 

Mr Giles pushes his glasses further up his nose. “Is that a problem?”

 

“Uh, no, not a problem. Not as such. He spent the night.” Craig's mouth quirks up at the corner. “I have hopes that it's not a one-off.”

 

Mr Giles opens and closes his mouth. “Er, right.” He takes off his glasses and cleans them. “Well, good for you.”

 

“I thought I should tell you. He's informed DI Safardin, and she's… well, I'd be surprised if she doesn't make some kind of comment the next time she's here. She's the type who would.”

 

***

 

Luke spreads the A3 photographic blow-ups across the floor. Jane perches on a chair, and frowns as she looks at the jigsaw being assembled.

 

“Looks like a nice pad he's got.”

 

“Yeah, shame the new owners wouldn't let us look, but after all this time there's a limit to what we could've found.”

 

“What kind of knots are those, do we know?” Jane asks.

 

“Er… French Bowline?” Luke glances at his notes. “Does that sound right?”

 

“A bondage classic,” Jane says approvingly. “Though drugging someone unwillingly to do it is most certainly _not_.”

 

“Drugging someone 'unwillingly'?” Luke asks, raising an eyebrow. “So… drugging someone willingly would be okay?”

 

“Look at me, Linus, I'm into _domination._ Drugging someone, willingly or not, would definitely be sadism. I'm not a sadist.”

 

“Yeah, I know. But you know more about this than I do.”

 

“Well it wouldn't be my idea of fun, and I'm not sure it'd count as 'safe, sane, and consensual', or 'risk aware' come to that.” Jane cups her chin in her hand. “Didn't you say there was evidence that James didn't want to be tied to the bed? Or was that just because he was drugged?”

 

“No.” Luke flicks the hair out of his eyes. “There were contusions, and some bruising to his wrists and ankles. He may have been drugged, but he wasn't out of it.”

 

Jane flicks through the file. “I don't see any mention of him being into the BDSM scene.”

 

“Hah, if he was into sacrificing virgins the useless investigation wouldn't have noticed.”

 

“True. There's a members card from his wallet. Something called… oh how sweet. 'The Bear and Cub Club'. Isn't that on our patch?” Jane asks.

 

“Yeah, Oak Street, between the leather club and the lesbian pole dancing place.”

 

“Oh, oh, have we finally found a club where you've actually been?” Jane asks, raising her eyebrows. “Good place?”

 

“I've not been, actually. Not yet.” Luke blushes slightly at her expression. “I thought perhaps it might be somewhere worth a visit.”

 

“With Paddington? Or are you looking for a Winnie-the-Pooh to add to your harem?”

 

“Why have you picked ‘Paddington’ particularly?”

 

“Get the train from darkest South Wales to London and it’s Paddington you fetch up in,” she explains. “Besides it seems to fit.”

 

“Very droll,” Luke says dryly.

 

“Well it's too early to try the club. Did you find the name of Henry's guardian?”

 

“Yup, Rupert Giles. He's British, spent most of the last ten years in America, but he's mostly based in the UK now.” Luke scratches his head. “Leastways that what his girlfriend said.”

 

“Mostly? Bi-coastal eh?”

 

Luke rolls his eyes. “Anyway, he was due back this morning.”

 

“There's a lot of books,” Jane remarks.

 

“Huh?” Luke asks. “Oh, in the room?”

 

“Hmm. What did he do? Lawyer?” Jane cups her chin in her hand. “Criminal?”

 

“No, property. Quite high up as lawyers go apparently.”

 

“So, what have we got here? A forty-something gay lawyer, and a nineteen year old student.” Jane smiles like a shark. “ _Law_ student, I knew something was niggling.”

 

“But Henry wouldn’t have been involved in cases. How would he have met Fowler?”

 

“Linus, you _have_ to get online. Chat rooms! There are forums and chat rooms for coppers. I’d be amazed if there aren’t dozens for solicitors.”

 

Luke scrolls through the notes on his electronic pad. “Fowler’s belongings are still in storage. Should I have them booked out?”

 

“Have we had CCTV from the route that Henry took home?”

 

“Coverage is a bit spotty. He shows up on a couple of cameras. He threw something away, hurled it pretty much, into a bin.” Luke scratches his forehead. “He looked like he was crying.”  

 

“Not bad, just misled. Doesn’t help much, does it?”

 

“No, Ma’am.”

 

“Okay, you and Paddington going out tonight? Or are you staying in to fuck like rabbits?”

 

“We _are_ gay,” Luke says sardonically. “We could go out and fuck like rabbits.”

 

“You check out Fowler’s belongings, especially the computer, and I’ll investigate the Bear and Cub Club. When you see Gilmore, ask him for a list of everyone who knows he’s on trank10.”

 

“You don’t want me to come with you to the club?”

 

“Nah, I’ll sort it out. You concentrate on getting your lover to rat out which of his mates has been telling tales to our boy Pure.”

 

“That could be an interesting conversation,” Luke says.

 

“He’s an ex-copper, and he’s got his head screwed on. It must’ve crossed his mind to wonder how Henry knew to spike his drink.”

 

“All I told him was that Henry was persuaded to spike his drink. He doesn’t know anything about Pure, including the trank10,” Luke answers.

 

“Well golly, aren’t you discreet? I’m going to ask you an _intensely_ stupid question now, but I’d appreciate it if you could refrain from laughing too much.”

 

“I’ll try.”

 

“We’re a bit stumped for feasible suspects, Linus, and that’s the truth. We’ve got plenty of evidence once we _have_ a suspect, but we’re buggered until we get some. All we’ve got is a pseudonym – Pure, and all we definitely know about him is that he knows Gilmore’s on trank10. I can’t think of a way to find out who knows that _other_ than asking him. So, can we trust him to know about Pure?”

 

Luke blows out his cheeks. “You think that he’s someone who knows Craig?”

 

“Someone with access to very private information about him, that’s for damn sure. It might turn out to be someone who’s never met him, but this _feels_ very personal.”

 

“Craig wouldn’t reveal the details of an investigation.” Luke chews his lip. “You think that Craig might be in danger?”

 

“Most murders have plain motives, sex, money, revenge. This… I don’t know. On the surface they both look like sex murders, but Henry’s certainly isn’t. It’s more like he was a tool to get at Gilmore; our man Pure certainly did a sterling job of making him look guilty. I’d tell you to keep a close eye on him, but that’d be redundant.”

 

“I’ll ask about the trank10. The rest… I’ll see how it goes.”

 

“Good lad.” Jane kisses his forehead. “Off you pop and explore Mr Fowler’s belongings then, eh?”

 

“Oh joy.”

 

***

 

“You were supposed to wait and bring Mr Giles back,” Craig points out.

 

“He didn’t want me to,” Oscar answers. “Should I go back to the police station and stalk him some?”

 

“Maybe next time.” Craig rubs his hair. “You might as well get off home.”

 

“Hurrah! I mean, are we not supposed to be stocktaking?”

 

Jie leans across the counter. “Mr Gilmore has a date,” she sing songs.

 

“Yes, thank you for your contribution, Jie.”

 

“Ooh, who with?” Oscar asks.

 

“The short policeman.”

 

“He’s four inches taller than Oscar!” Craig protests. “And it’s… it’s none of your business if I have a date.”

 

“So, can I go too?” Jie asks sweetly.

 

“Don’t forget tonight!”

 

“I won’t, it’s engraved on my heart. Oscar, can I grab a ride with you?”

 

“Oh, yes,” Craig complains. “I’ll just lock up by myself, shall I?”

 

“Good idea, Mr Gilmore,” Jie says sweetly, taking Oscar by the arm. “Have a good date. Don’t do anything we wouldn’t do.”

 

“That doesn’t cover an awful lot,” Craig mutters.

 

He shuts and locks the door behind them and cashes up the till. He checks the doors and windows and makes his way upstairs.

 

There is nothing noticeably wrong when Craig walks into his flat. Nothing obviously out of place, nothing missing, and nothing there that shouldn't be.

 

A little something prickles in his subconscious. Some slight wrongness in the air that his conscious mind interprets as a touch of chilliness. He rubs his hands together briskly and walks into the kitchen to turn the kettle on. He drops a tea bag into a large, white china cup and opens the fridge.

 

The man's disembodied head has been placed on the middle shelf of the fridge. The thermostat has been turned to the maximum and ice glitters on the long, dark lashes framing his pale blue eyes.

 

**End of part one**

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Part Two**

 

**Previously on 'Inquisitors List':**

 

_{The tall thirty-something redheaded woman leaves the naked blond man tied to the bed and walks into the hallway to answer the ringing phone._

_“DI Safardin.”_

_“Ma'am, we've got a body in the river. IC1 male, approximately twenty years old, trussed up with netting.”_

_“Not even my birthday.” Jane perches on the telephone seat and begins unlacing her boots._

_“Forensics is here, and we've cordoned off the area. Reporters are starting to buzz around.”_

_“Right. There in forty.”_

_“See you soon, Ma'am,” Luke says cheerfully.}_

 

~~

 

_{“We got a useable DNA sample from the semen and it's been matched.”}_

 

~~

 

_{“Our sperm donor is not a criminal. They got it from the police database not the criminal database. He's an ex-copper. He's from Sun Hill, just like you Linus.”}_

_~~_

_{“If Councillor Marsh is so offended by same sex images then maybe she should move to Afghanistan and have done with it.”}_

_~~_

_{“I don't know, there was this one time, that this guy wouldn't take a damn hint and leave me the hell alone,” Luke says, glaring at Louis.}_

 

~~

 

_{“A fingerprint.”_

_“What?” Jane raises her eyebrows. “Where?”_

_“On the bullet. It was somewhere around here.” Luke taps the bridge of his nose. “But in the middle. When they took it out they found a nice clear thumb print.”_

_Jane grins slowly. “Enough for comparison?”_

_“It didn't get a match on the known offenders list, or on the police employee database. However, it does match a partial print found at a shooting six months ago.” Luke flourishes the papers at her. “The bullet was almost certainly fired from the same gun. The victim was a Mr James Fowler, age forty six.”}_

 

~~

 

_{There is nothing noticeably wrong when Craig walks into his flat. Nothing obviously out of place, nothing missing, and nothing there that shouldn't be._

_A little something prickles in his subconscious. Some slight wrongness in the air that his conscious mind interprets as a touch of chilliness. He rubs his hands together briskly, and walks into the kitchen to turn the kettle on. He drops a tea bag into a large, white china cup and opens the fridge._

_The man's disembodied head has been placed on the middle shelf of the fridge. The thermostat has been turned to the maximum and ice glitters on the long, dark lashes framing his pale blue eyes.}_

 

***

 

From a distance the street appears infested. The black uniforms and contrasting hi-vis jackets creating the image of segmented insects swarming.

 

Jane stalks through the officers holding back the gawking bystanders and climbs over the tape.

 

“Where's DC Ashton?” she calls to a group of officers.

 

“Here, Ma'am,” Luke says, walking forward and taking her coat. “Forensics have taken the... remains away, we're searching the building, and canvassing the area. I've arranged for the shop staff to come in to be interviewed tomorrow, I hope that's okay? Cra... Mr Gilmore’s at the hospital, they had to give him a sedative. I know he's ex-job, but it must be a terrible shock for anyone to...”

 

“Stop babbling and go to the hospital,” Jane says quietly. 

 

“But...”

 

“Zip your lip. You're no use to me like this, Luke, no use at all. So bugger off to the hospital, and do something practical like hold your man's hand, okay?” Jane turns to a handsome, blond constable standing nearby. “Oi, blond and beautiful, come over here.”

 

The young officer flushes slightly as he walks over. “Yes, Ma'am?”

 

“DC Ashton here needs taking to the hospital. When he's done, he'll need bringing back to pick up his car. You'll be a good boy and look after him for me, won't you?”

 

“Um, yes Ma'am.”

  

Jane takes her coat back from Luke, and kisses him on the forehead. “I'll speak to you tomorrow, and Paddington too. No excuses.”

 

Luke nods, and follows the constable away to the car.

 

***

 

Craig is lying in bed on his side when Luke walks into the quiet, lemon-coloured room.

 

“I'll… wait out here,” the constable says uncomfortably.

 

“There'll be some nurses about. They love a lad in uniform,” Luke says.

 

The other man grins sheepishly and walks away.  

 

“Knock, knock,” Luke says gently. “Are you awake?”

 

Craig opens his eyes and shakily sits up.

 

“Hey, it's okay.” Luke rushes to the side of the bed and helps him up. “You don't have to get up just for me.”

 

“Can't help it, happens by itself,” he slurs slightly.

 

“Funny man. How do you feel?”

 

“I keep seeing his eyes,” Craig says quietly. “Poor Drew. Nobody deserves that.”

 

Luke slips his arms around Craig and holds him close, stroking his back.

 

“I suppose Safardin has sent you to get a statement?” Craig asks, leaning his head on Luke's shoulder.

 

“Actually, she told me I was babbling and no use to her. Then she told me to come here and do something 'practical' like hold your hand.”

 

Craig laughs tiredly and pulls back. “All heart that woman.” 

 

“She didn't mean it the way it sounds.”

 

“She must be going soft if she doesn't expect you to get a statement while you're here.”

 

Luke pushes a lock of hair out of Craig's eyes. “She knows you've been sedated.”

 

“Ah. Been a long time since I threw up at a crime scene. SOCO must be pleased.”

 

“You threw up in the sink at least. Lad I knew once threw up on the corpse,” Luke says.

 

“Nice.”

 

“We've not… there's no sign of the rest yet. Last I knew they'd checked your fridge and emptied your freezer in case chummy had put some parts in there.”

 

“Not sure I could use it again,” Craig grimaces.

 

“No.”

 

“Someone told his parents?”

 

“Yeah, Jane went around before she got to the... to your place. She likes to get it over with and besides, she drives the forensics and coroner’s guys mad.”

 

“Why?”

 

“She has no patience; she's all 'are you done yet? What's taking so long?' Then she asks if they're really sure.”

 

“Oh, I bet they love her.”

 

“Yeah. So now dealing with that side of it is my job.” Luke takes Craig's hand and squeezes his fingers.

 

“Doesn't she just hassle you to have answers more quickly, and ask if you're sure?”

 

“No, she knows l always triple check my facts. She trusts me.”

 

“That's good,” Craig says honestly. “It's difficult to have that in the service sometimes.”

 

“Never thought I'd hear you call it anything but 'the job'. I guess you really are a civilian.”

 

“It's a lonely life but someone has to do it,” Craig says.

 

“Do you want to talk about Drew?” Luke asks. “I mean… I loved Kerry. So, we weren't together anymore, and there'd been too much hurt between us, but I did love her as a friend if nothing else. When she died, I kind of flipped out there for a while. I didn't want to believe that someone as full of life was gone.” He entwines his fingers with Craig's. “Is it similar for you? You must've loved Drew.”

 

“I did, and we were happy. He was attacked on duty one night in St Jude's, stabbed in the stomach. He never got over it. He wouldn't admit there was a problem though, he insisted on going back to work. He wouldn't talk about it to me or see a psychologist. I don't know exactly when he started using, but I know that's why.”

 

“He was a doctor?”

 

“Yeah, he used to be an engineer, but he'd retrained. Put himself through medical school, wanted to specialise in paediatrics. I really admired him for that.”

 

“I do too,” Luke says quietly.

 

“I just… I don't want you to think that he was some sort of scumbag.”

 

“I don't believe you'd marry a scumbag,” Luke says, shaking his head. “Did you meet him through work?”

 

“No, a blind date. A friend of his got mugged, and I dealt with it. She fancied playing matchmaker.”

 

“You and faghags!” Luke says with a smile.

 

“Do you think I could get out of here?” Craig asks. “I'm not sick, and I have calmed down.”   

 

“You know that's not my call,” Luke chides mildly. “Besides, your place is still full of coppers and forensics.”

 

“Prime suspect again. But I haven't seen him in months. Everything goes through our solicitors.” Craig rubs his face. “Have they checked the CCTV?”

 

“The tape’s missing.”

 

“I didn't do this, Luke,” Craig says quietly. “I know it looks bad, but l promise you that I didn't do it.”

 

“I know.”

 

“I have a damn good motive though, eh? Getting a divorce, probably going to lose my shirt, and just in a new relationship.”

 

“You said it yourself, Craig, you don't think that losing a few grand is worth killing someone and spending the rest of your life in prison. I know that, Jane knows that,” Luke promises. He kisses Craig on the cheek. “It's late, you should get some rest. Tomorrow Jane'll grill you, and she'll find some link or connection. We'll sort this out.”

 

“I hope you're right, I really do.”

 

***

 

The police station is just old enough for the shine to be off the chrome, and the gleam off the glossy floors.

 

“Thank you for coming in,” Jane says, leading Craig along the corridor and into an interview room.

 

“Apparently I can't go home yet, so I might as well come here.”

 

“Well, planting all that evidence takes time.” She grins at his expression. “You have me down as a real old-time corrupt copper, don't you?”

 

Craig leans back and folds his arms. “You have me down as… what, a sex killer?”

 

“In your dreams, bookboy. You haven't got the balls.”

 

“Oh, I'll just piss off home then, eh?”

 

“If you like.” She clicks her pen and tests it on the paper. “But before you do, tell me about James Fowler.”

 

“Who?”

 

“First victim. First victim we know of so far that is.” She opens a manila envelope and pulls out a photograph, sliding it across the desk. “Shot with the same gun that was used on Henry and Drew.”

 

Craig's head jerks up. “Drew was shot?”

 

“In the back of the head. Small bore, and it didn't exit.”

 

“Oh god.”

 

“So.” Jane taps the photograph. “Tell us about him.”

 

Craig stares at the photograph. “Have you got another picture? He looks sort of familiar, but I can't put my finger on it.”

 

She picks up her case and roots around. “Here.” She slides a couple of much smaller snapshots across the table.

 

Craig turns them around and starts to redden. “What's his name?”

 

“James Fowler. He was a solicitor, property. Fingered him, have you?”

 

“He collected rare books, fourteenth-century fiction particularly. At an auction in Russia I outbid him on an original _Dante's Inferno_.” Craig chews his lip. “Some people get quite aggressive, but he treated it like a game. He just shrugged and smiled at me when I won.”

 

“Classy pickup. He did pick you up I take it?”

 

“Well, it wasn't even a one-night stand,” Craig stutters. “We uh, we had sex in the lift.”

 

“In the lift of the auction house?” Jane asks. 

 

“Yes,” Craig says, surprised at her calm reaction. “Twice.”

 

“Speedy.”

 

“We pulled the emergency stop,” Craig admits.

 

“And after you dealt with your emergency, then what?”

 

“And uh, then the doors opened, and we got arrested.”

 

“Arrested _again_? Aren't you the international criminal? Interesting that neither arrest shows up on your record.”

 

“Yes, well,” Craig says, twisting his fingers together. “Fortunately, my solicitor arranged for a sufficiently large 'donation', and I was released without charge.”

 

“What about Mr Fowler?”

 

“I assume he did the same thing. That seemed to be the point of arresting us.”

 

“When was this?”

 

“About… seven months or so.”

 

“Who knows about it?” she asks.

 

“Nobody, it's not the kind of anecdote to share.”

 

“Who knew you were going to Russia for this auction?”

 

“It wasn't a secret. My friends, everyone at the shop, quite probably anyone I spoke to the week before,” Craig says with a shrug. “I was quite excited about the trip.”

 

Jane drums her fingertips on the desk. “Well now, ain't that a thing? I've got three dead men, and what've they got in common? Your cock, that's what. You must be one _hell_ of a good lay.” 

 

“I didn't do this,” Craig says quietly. “I know what it looks like, but…”

 

“It looks like someone is going to huge lengths to make you look like a sex-killer. Any theories why?” 

 

“I don't know. I've not had any threatening letters or phone calls. Is that the kind of thing you're aiming at?”

 

“Threats would work, but I'm not fussy, I'll take anything weird you've got going,” she offers.

 

Craig starts to shake his head. “N… well, there were the photographs I suppose.”

 

“Kinky photographs?” Jane asks hopefully.

 

“I didn't look that closely!” Craig scratches his forehead. “About six or seven weeks ago someone sent photographs of Drew having sex with some man. It was a bit of a godsend to tell the truth, he'd been refusing to agree to a no-fault divorce. Definite proof of adultery was going to speed things up no end.”

 

“Where are these photos? Did you recognise the other man?”

 

“No, never seen the bloke before. My solicitors have the photographs.” Craig covers his eyes with his hand. “I haven't told them about poor Drew. I'll have to ring them.”

 

“Right, when Linus gets back from your friend Councillor Marsh, then he can chase down the photographs.”

 

“Councillor Marsh? Why?”

 

“According to Jie, she's the one who was responsible for you being repeatedly investigated for obscenity. Seemed sensible to find out if there was some reason you were her number one target. Plus, it's a good excuse for Linus to rip her bigoted arse a new orifice. He does enjoy that so much.”

 

“Why do you call him that?”

 

“Because he carries around your memory like Linus carries around his security blanket,” Jane says, watching him blush. “You can piss off then, and I'll get the manacles ready for your staff. It's far more fun swinging the cat with a bit of appropriate restraint.”

 

Craig stands up and pulls his jacket on. “I'm sure I'll hear from you again,” he says sourly.

 

“Oh yes, well, I'll come and tip you out of your boytoy's bed when I need to talk to you.”

 

Craig straightens his shoulders. “He told you.”

 

“Of course he's told me, you big lemon. I'm his boss, and he's sleeping with the witness in a murder trial. Why'd you think he wasn't here?” She starts to grin. “Oh, you thought he'd come up with some excuse so he wouldn't be here, right?”

 

“It had crossed my mind.”

 

Jane leans back in her chair and balances her legs on the desk, crossing them at the ankle. “You need to fix it in your mind, Mr Gilmore; I'm not like any of the bitchy, twisted, self-righteous, or whatever-the-hell-else female coppers you've had to deal with in the past. I'm me, Jane Safardin. I believe the straightest path is _always_ through the mud, and I'd have it no other way. You're fucking Ashton, that's fine. Hell, that's _great_ , it's well past time he came to terms with being an arse when he was a closet case. He's yours off-duty, no arguments there. But on duty he's _mine_. He's told you how it works, I know he has. The sooner you get a grip on that then the happier everyone will be.”

 

***

 

Luke continues to stare at the woman, allowing the unpleasant silence to stretch out.

 

“I'm sure as a police officer, and fellow public servant, you understand the importance of protecting our young people from… unsavoury influences,” she adds finally.

 

“That's not traditionally a police issue,” Luke says coldly. “British law is rarely prescriptive. Once someone’s over the age of sixteen we expect them to make their own decisions, right or wrong, and take the consequences.”

 

Councillor Marsh gives him a cold, nasty smile. “Given the state of the country, do you consider that 'tradition' has been for the best?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Your _personal_ issues aside, I have a duty to respond to the concerns of my constituents.” She shrugs elegantly and interlaces her fingers. “We had complaints.”

 

“How many? Who from?”

 

“I'm not really at liberty to…”

 

“Fine, I'll get a warrant. The Post will be overjoyed to run the story of you refusing to help the police with a murder enquiry. Goes well with your law and order stance. I dare say they'll use the victims being gay as an excuse to reprint all those old allegations of homophobia. Still, any publicity is good publicity. Especially with an election coming up,” Luke says sweetly.

 

Marsh's face contorts as though smelling something revolting. “You, detective, are a prime example of what’s wrong with this country.”

 

“The feeling's mutual. You keep a record of these complaints? I want them all, now.”

 

“One,” she admits in a strangled voice.

 

Luke flaps his hand condescendingly. “Well? Run off and get it.”

 

Marsh scowls and thumps the intercom with her palm. “Angela, bring the complaints file for the _Inquisitors List_.” She leans back and folds her arms. “Have you ever actually _achieved_ anything? Not simply undermining and destroying the mores of the country, but something positive?”

 

“Like spreading malicious poison? Doing everything possible to have other people treated like they're less than human? No, nothing like that. Just catching killers and helping people that nobody else helps.” Luke holds his hand out to the secretary as she walks in. “I'll take that.” He takes the file, and nods at her. “Thank you very much. I'll let myself out.”

 

***

 

“Fun with the fascist?” Jane asks cheerfully.

 

“Oh yeah, bags of fun,” Luke says sourly. “I had to threaten to tell the Post she wouldn't cooperate. I would've done too.”

 

“Bloody good idea. Especially the bit where she's been persecuting a decent small business. I'll have a word with that cute little reporter who's always digging up stories about her.”

 

“Thanks,” Luke says gratefully.

 

“Anything good on the complaints?”

 

“One complaint. And that was anonymous. It wouldn't have been given the time of day if Marsh wasn't such a homophobe. Nobody wants her after their blood, so they pretend to believe her stories of hard-core porn lurking opposite the medieval bibles.”

 

“Medieval bibles _are_ hard core porn. I watched a documentary about it.”

 

“ _You_ watched a documentary about medieval bibles, Ma'am?” Luke asks.

 

“The history of porn.”

 

“Ask a stupid question.”

 

“There are no stupid questions,” Jane chides. “Only stupid people.”

 

“With everything that's happened, I haven't had a chance to ask Craig about the trank10,” Luke apologises. “I'm sorry. Do you want me to ask him to come in?”

 

“No, he's been in once and besides, we need him onside.” Jane makes a rueful face. “I've already annoyed the hell out of him today.”

 

“Gosh Mum, I wish you and dad could just get along.”

 

“Smartarse.”

 

“Thanks, I like it,” Luke says primly. “So, you've spoken to him then?”

 

“Hmm, yes. I'll brief you, it's worth hearing.”

 

***

 

Craig is sweeping the floor when Mr Giles walks into the shop.

 

“Thought you could do with a hand,” Giles says, rolling up his sleeves. “The police in the States have a tendency not to clean up after themselves either.”

 

“Everyone’s at the station being questioned,” Craig explains. “They're good kids.”

 

“Yes, and they're very worried about you.”

 

Craig stops brushing and straightens up. “I'm not planning on doing anything silly.” 

 

“Oscar is hoping to cast a protective charm around the shop.”

 

“He's never done one before,” Craig says, surprised.

 

“When I got back yesterday, they were all milling around rather. It seemed sensible to try and focus their minds on something… positive.”

 

“Thank you.” 

 

“If you're agreeable, I could ask Willow to come and help him with the casting.”

 

Craig blinks. “I didn't know she was in the country.”

 

“She isn't yet.”

 

“Oh, er…well, I'm sure it would help him no end.”

 

“He's every bit as talented as you've said, if a little hot-headed.” He smiles slightly. “The two do seem to go together for some reason. Willow is closer to his age, and he's more likely to listen to her,” Giles explains. “Especially as she's been there.”

 

“I should've realised he was taking Henry's death far too well,” Craig says, with a sigh. “Jie was the one making all the threatening noises.”

 

“Well, she's the natural focus. I realise this is a very bad time, but at some point, I would like to go out on patrol with her.”

 

Craig rubs his forehead. “I forgot all about it last night. Hmm, she's out patrolling every night. It helps her de-stress. When she gets back from the nick, I'll tell her.”    

 

“If she's questioned by the officer I saw then we might be waiting a while. She interrogated me for over an hour. It would've been longer, but…” Giles waves a hand vaguely up towards the ceiling.

 

“Red hair, tall, blunt as a rusty saw?”

 

“Er, yes.” He cleans his glasses with a clean handkerchief. “Quite… singular.”

 

“One word for it.”

 

***

 

“You were working in the shop yesterday?” Jane asks.

 

Oscar nods, and folds his arms. “I didn't kill him. I never killed. Not yet.”

 

“Not yet?”

 

“Not lived my whole life yet,” Oscar says. “Ask me again when I die. Answer might be different.” He flicks a brief, cold smile at her.

 

“Henry was your lover; if I was you, I'd want to kill his murderer too.”      

 

“But you wouldn't do it because that would be _wrong_ ,” he says sarcastically.

 

“It would be illegal, certainly. But I'm a police officer so 'illegal' is really more of a guideline.”

 

“Then why not?” 

 

“Because I've already killed someone. In cold blood. Looked them in the face and took their life away. I didn't enjoy it, and I wouldn't do it again lightly. Deserving or not, when you kill someone, you kill a part of yourself.” 

 

“You have other questions?” Oscar says eventually.

 

“Did you know Drew Harrison?”

 

“Not 'knew'.”

 

“But you'd recognise him if you saw him?”

 

“Depends which body part.”

 

Jane smiles. “You didn't like him.”

 

“He was a rude, nasty pig. All he cared about was his next fix.”

 

“What about James Fowler? Was he a rude, nasty pig?”

 

“I don't think I know him. Who is he?”

 

“He's the first victim. This is him.” Jane slides a photograph across the desk. “Any bells ringing?”

 

“No. He's too old for me anyway.”

 

“What about Henry?”

 

Oscar pulls a face and examines the photograph more closely. “He's blond and pale. Henry liked men who were dark.”

 

“Like you?” Jane asks. 

 

“Yes.” Oscar sticks his chin out.

 

“Tell me about Pure.”

 

“Pure what?”

 

“Oh, come on, Oscar. We're relying on you as the only person who knows anything about Henry's private life. For more than six months Henry was chatting online with someone calling him or herself, 'Pure'.”

 

“Is that him? Is that the bastard?” Oscar demands, leaping to his feet.

 

“Sit _down_!”

 

Oscar snaps back into his seat, and stares at her wide-eyed. “You shout like Mr Gilmore,” he says quietly.

 

“It's a copper thing. Tell me about Henry's friends. Not the ones at the shop. Who did he spend his time with?”

 

“He didn't have many friends besides us. He was shy, and found it hard talking to people.” Oscar rubs his eyes with his palm. “I know that there were a couple of people he studied with. I can get their names and let you know.”      

 

“Good, and if you can think of anything else, anyone else, be sure and tell me.”

 

***

 

Luke smiles nicely at the receptionist and shows her his warrant card. “DC Ashton to see Mr Morgan. I called before.”

 

“I'll tell him that you're here.” She gets up and walks away and into an office, tapping politely on the door before opening. After a few minutes she reappears and smiles at Luke. “You can go through.”

 

“Thanks,” Luke says as politely as he can. She returns to her desk and continues working. Luke walks past and into the open office.

 

The red-haired man inside the office looks up and flashes Luke a bright, wide smile. He stands up, and holds out his hand. “Detective Constable. How can I help you?”

 

“I'm investigating the death of Mr Drew Harrison,” Luke says, shaking his hand.

 

“Yes, Mr Gilmore rang me first thing and told me about it. A terrible tragedy, and a shocking crime.” He gestures at a chair. “Please sit down, Constable.”

 

Luke sits and looks the other man over. “You've been representing Mr Gilmore in his divorce proceedings?”

 

“That's right. Although I guess not anymore.” He shakes his head as he crosses his legs and straightens the crease of his trousers.

 

“When was the last time you spoke to Mr Harrison?”

 

David interlaces his fingers. “I didn't, not directly. I deal with his solicitor. My last contact with them was a little over a week ago.”

 

Luke taps his stylus against his computer pad. “Would it be usual for them to contact you if they hadn't heard from him in a number of weeks?”

 

“Not that unusual in a divorce case. Even in an uncontested case, which this wasn't, I can be waiting weeks for paperwork before I can proceed further.”

 

“Who else works here besides yourself and the secretary? Do you have a partner?”

 

“No, just me. It's cheaper setting up alone than buying into an existing practice.”

 

“I understand that initially Mr Gilmore was going for a no-fault divorce?” Luke asks.

 

“Yes, unreasonable behaviour is difficult to prove once the offending partner has stamped off in a snit. Drew was unwilling to meet us half-way though, he was consistent if nothing else, and things were at something of a stand-still when the photographs arrived.”

 

“I'd like those please.”

 

“Well, I…” 

 

“You won't need them now, will you?” Luke points out.

 

***

 

Jie closes her eyes to concentrate.

 

“Me, Oscar, Viv later on, I guess. A lot of the regulars, the classics club, a few of the geezers…”

 

“Geezers?” Jane asks mildly.

 

“Crusty collector types. Nearly as old as the books.”

 

“Ah, okay, do you know names?”

 

“Not off the top of my head, but they're there regularly. Someone will know. Who else? DC Ashton.” Jie pauses, and smirks for a second before resuming. “A couple of private sellers, that Creepy Dave guy, but he's just Mr Gilmore's solicitor. He was there about the divorce.”

 

“Creepy Dave?” Jane queries.

 

“Oh, that's just what Oscar calls him.” Jie rolls her eyes. “Oscar was jealous that he was helping Henry out with some of his course work. A lot of the people Oscar doesn't like are people who Henry spent time with, or fancied.” She pulls at a lock of her hair. “A whole bunch of the erotic book people were in too. One I'd never seen before.”

 

“What did he look like?”

 

“Uh…a little taller than me, going bald. White.” Jie shrugs. “I wasn't looking that closely.”

 

“How old?”

 

“I'm no good at that.”

 

“Older than me?”

 

“Oh yeah, piles older,” Jie agrees.

 

“Older than Mr Gilmore?”

 

“No, a bit younger than Mr Gilmore.”

 

“Probably in his early to mid forties then,” Jane divines.

 

“If you say so.”

 

***

 

Luke slips the closed envelope under his computer pad. “How long has your secretary worked for you?”

 

“Almost a year I think.” David opens a diary on his desk. “A year next month.”

 

“Is she familiar with all your cases?”    

 

“Yes, she's quite efficient. Why, do you think Bernie was involved in Mr Harrison's death?” David asks.

 

“Was she aware of Mr Gilmore's arrest in Russia?” Luke asks.

 

He raises his eyebrows and wags a finger at Luke. “That was a shake-down and should not be a part of any official record.”

 

“Yeah, but does she know?”

 

“I dare say she does. It's in the file.”

 

“Does anyone else know? Did you have anyone else working here at the time?” Luke asks. 

 

David rubs his forehead. “No. I must confess that I’m a little unclear on how this is connected to Mr Harrison's death. Do you think he was somehow involved in Mr Gilmore's arrest? I did my best to ensure he wasn't aware of the incident.”     

 

Luke takes out a photograph and hands it over. “Do you recognise this gentleman?”

 

“No, I don't think so.”

 

“His name is Fowler. He was the man arrested with Mr Gilmore. He was murdered shortly afterwards.”

 

“Really?”

 

“Yeah, really.” Luke taps the photograph. “He was murdered by the same person who killed Drew Harrison and Henry Buchanan.”

 

“Goodness.”

 

“It's what the evidence says.”

 

***

 

“Something smells good,” Jane says, looking up as Luke walks into the room.

 

“Goats cheese and sun blush tomatoes for you,” he says, handing over the sandwich. “Steak and pepperoni for me.”

 

“Keeping your strength up, eh?”

 

“That was going to be my line,” Luke complains, blushing.

 

“You get the photos from Creepy Dave?”

 

“What?” 

 

“Apparently Oscar doesn't like the man, so he calls him 'Creepy Dave',” Jane explains.

 

“Rich coming from Oscar.”

 

“Aww, are you still sulking because he called you short?”

 

“Yes,” he says, through a mouthful of sandwich. 

 

“After lunch you better shoot off to Paddington and get him to rat out anyone who knows about him being on trank10. There's a common thread here. _Someone_ has been told, or otherwise found out that Gilmore’s on trank10, shagged James Fowler, and that Henry had a thing for him. They're not just watching him, or they'd have stuck _your_ head in a fridge by now.”

 

Luke's mouth opens and closes silently.

 

“Oh,” Jane says more gently. “Hadn't that occurred to you?”

 

“You don't think it's about… money or something?” he asks weakly.

 

“No. This is sex and sickness. The immediate cause of their deaths looks to be sleeping with Gilmore. The _root_ cause, why someone thinks that deserves death, that's what we've got to find out. Preferably without you, or anyone else, getting shot in the back of the head.”

 

Luke swallows, and then jumps when his computer pings. He leans over and clicks on the mouse. “It's the preliminary report on Drew,” he says, his tongue feeling thick in his mouth.

 

“Anything interesting?” Jane leans over Luke.

 

“The head was frozen.”

 

“So? It was in a fridge.”

 

“No, not just cold, _frozen_. Like it’d been in a freezer for a while before it was put in the fridge.”

 

“When? How long was it in the freezer for?”

 

Luke scrolls down the page. “Between three and eight weeks.”

 

“Bloody hell. Sometime around the time the photographs turned up. The plot thickens.”

 

Luke wipes his hands and opens the envelope. “I hope these aren't all whips and chains. It was a nice sandwich, but I don't want to see it again.”

 

“Haven't you peeked? I would have,” Jane says with a grin.

 

“Nope, I can defer pleasure,” Luke says, sticking out his tongue.

 

“Speaking of which; don't tell anyone else that you're screwing Gilmore. I'll get taken off the case if you get yourself killed, and besides, breaking in a new bagman’s a pain in the arse.”

 

“Anyone else?” Luke pulls out the photos and turns them over. “I haven't told anyone apart from you.”

 

“Well, Jie knew.” Jane tilts her head. “She was smirking about it.”

 

The blood drains from Luke's face. Jane leans across, and gently pulls the photographs from his hands. She turns them around and stares at them.

 

“Oh _fuck_!”

 

***

 

Luke leans back against the wall and folds his arms. “I think it might be best if I question him.”

 

“Who's the DI around here?”

 

“You're too angry,” he says calmly. “You'll go in there and rip his head off. Where will that get us?”

 

“In need of an Ouija board.” Jane runs her fingers through her hair. “Why aren't you angry?”

 

“We can't both be angry. How would people tell us apart?” he jokes.

 

“As long as they remember you're the pretty one then it shouldn't be a problem,” she replies, and ruffles his hair. “Okay then, stud. Go in there and honey trap him.”

 

“Euw, if I wasn't interested before I'm not going to be interested now, am I? What do you think I am, American white trash?”

 

“No, that's when you fall for them when they're already _in_ prison,” Jane replies.

 

Luke shakes his head, slips an earpiece in, and walks into the interview room. A uniformed constable is waiting along with the arrested man. Luke switches on the tape recorder and sits down.

 

“This is an interview with Louis Bridges. Present are Detective Constable Luke Ashton, and Constable Armand Orru.”

 

“You know, if you wanted to spend some time with me you only had to say,” Louis says, folding his arms. “I don't suppose there's any chance of an explanation, is there?”

 

“I'm going to show you some photographs now. I'd like you to identify the people in them.” Luke pulls out several photographs and puts them on the desk. “For the tape I am showing Mr Bridges evidence numbers LA-91 and LA-92.”

 

“Aww… shit. Luke, this isn't what it looks like…”

 

“Can you identify the two men in those photographs, please?” Luke repeats.

 

Louis stares at him. “Do we have to go through this farce?”

 

“I can get DI Safardin to interview you if you'd rather?”

 

“No, no.” Louis rubs his face. “That's me in the photograph. Okay? I'm not denying it.”

 

“And the other man?”

 

“Look, I know I should've said something, but…”

 

“Louis, please just answer the question,” Luke says gently. “You keep going around the houses, and you know how that looks.”

 

“Drew Harrison.”

 

“For the tape I am now showing Mr Bridges photograph LA-89.” Luke slides across an evidence photograph of Drew's head next to a tape measure. “Can you identify who took that photograph please?”

 

“I did. It's my job!”

 

“Did you recognise him?”

 

“Yes, of course I did.” Louis sighs and rubs his head. “I recognised him, I should've said something, I didn't. Can we move on?”

 

Luke stares at him for a long moment and taps the first two photographs. “Tell me about this.”

 

“Well, I… I met him when I was doing a lecture. He was a medical student at the time.” Louis takes a sip of water. “Nothing happened, it was just a lecture. He asked some questions, and he _was_ a lot older than most of the others, so I remembered him. Then a few months ago I bumped into him outside a club.”

 

“Which club?”

 

“Agony and Ecstasy.”

 

Luke winces as Jane shouts triumphantly down the earpiece. “Coming out of the club? Or going into the club?”

 

“I'm not sure. Coming out, I think. I wasn't very impressed with it. It was a bit too nasty for me. I prefer a friendly atmosphere.”

 

“A friendly S and M club?” Luke asks, raising his eyebrows.

 

“Ask your boss. I'm sure she knows all the places.”

 

Luke drums his fingers on the desk. “Okay, you met him outside the club, and then what?”

 

“He recognised me, I didn't recognise him at first. It was dark, I couldn't see that clearly. We went back to his and had sex a couple of times.”

 

“Sadomasochistic sex?”

 

“With some bloke I just met on the street?” Louis asks, astonished. “I don't have a death wish!”

 

Luke pauses, listening to Jane talking in his ear. “You're a sub then?”

 

“I don't see how that's important,” he says, reddening angrily.

 

“It's important because we believe that Henry Buchanan was a sub, who was murdered by a dom who approached him online.”

 

Louis frowns and leans forward. “Look, I'll put my hands up to having met Drew Harrison a couple of times, but as far as I know I never met Henry Buchanan.”

 

“What clubs do you frequent?”

 

“I haven't for a while, I was collared and exclusive. I didn't like Agony and Ecstasy, and there aren't many S and M clubs locally. On the rare occasions I do go then I tend to go into town to the Torture Garden,” Louis says, with a shrug.

 

“Okay.” Luke says, taking out another photograph. “For the benefit of the tape I'm now showing Mr Bridges evidence LA-90. Do you recognise the man in this photograph?”

 

“No, I don't think so.”

 

Luke tilts his head. “He was killed six months ago. We believe by the same man who killed Henry Buchanan and Drew Harrison.”

 

“Well, I don't know him.”

 

“His name's James Fowler,” Luke adds. “Does that help?”

 

“For the third time, I don't know him, and I never heard of him,” Louis says irritably.

 

“Right. See, that's a bit of a problem since you were part of the forensics team assigned to his death.”

***

 

Jane flips a stylus between her fingers as Luke sits opposite her. “He's slimy, but we knew that. Slimy doesn't mean murderer. I'm not feeling this one at all. What do you reckon?”

 

“Evidence doesn't really seem substantial.”

 

“Yeah, but he works in forensics.” She rests her feet on Luke's lap. “He could remove any evidence that points at him and plant all kinds of contradictory odds and ends.”

 

“But the fingerprints?” Luke asks. “How do you plant fingerprints?”

 

“Two ways, if you work in forensics. Number one; if you have a nice clear print and some good quality sticky tape. Easy, I've seen it done. Number two; you don't touch the actual evidence, you simply fake the computer files.”

 

“So we have no idea what physical evidence we have is real or not then?” He absently rubs her leg. “Bit buggered, aren't we?”

 

“We'll have to search his gaff. At least _I'll_ search his house, and you finally pin down Paddington on who knows what. Find out when he did his naked shimmy in the fountain. Was he with Drew at the time? All that stuff. Oh, and ask if he has any idea why Pure emailed Jie and not Oscar.”

 

“Sure you don't want me to come with?”

 

“Nope, we want him to think you don't know anything about the search. That way he might be more likely to lie through his teeth about what is or isn't there. He does still like you so,” Jane says with a grin.

 

“Hey, if he's a sub, does that mean when he comes on to me, he wants me to beat him up?”

 

“Maybe, maybe not,” she says with a shrug. “He might be a switch. But you aren't averse to being all alpha male in your own little way. I bet you've got Paddington hanging on your every word.”  

 

“For all I see him,” Luke mutters.

 

“Well what are you hanging around here for? I've just told you to bugger off and get him to grass.”

 

Luke rolls his eyes and, carefully pushing her legs off his lap, gets to his feet. “That's not exactly what I had in mind.”

 

“Take it where you can get it, that's my motto,” Jane says cheerfully.

 

Luke pulls out his phone and rings Craig. “Hi, I need to see you. Where are you? Okay, I'll be there in ten minutes.” He puts the phone back in his pocket, accidentally dislodging a pound coin which rolls under one of the desks.

 

“I'm paying you too much.”

 

“It's my own fault for keeping the phone with the money I suppose,” Luke mutters, getting down on all fours to retrieve his money.

 

“Ooh, that's a lovely view. If you were fifteen years younger, and you weren't such a good friend, I might be quite jealous of your teddy bear.”

 

“There are more views like that for my Mr Right,” Luke says tartly as he stands up. “I'm off before I drop anything else.”

 

“You're always welcome to drop your trousers for me, Linus. In the spirit of scientific endeavour, you understand.”

 

***

 

“Good afternoon, Detective Constable,” Jie says nicely. “Come to see Mr Gilmore, have you?”

 

Luke sighs a little and walks up to the till where she is standing. “Yes, I’ve some questions for him.”

 

“Oh, okay,” she agrees, twinkling a little as she smiles. “Questions, right.”

 

“That reminds me, do you recognise this man?” Luke shows her a small photograph.

 

“Oh, that's him. Do you know his name now?”

 

“Sorry?” Luke asks.

 

“That's the bloke your boss was asking about. He was here yesterday looking at the erotic books.” Jie raises her eyebrows. “You think he was here stalking Mr Gilmore or something?”

 

“Enquiries are continuing.” Luke leans closer and lowers his voice. “Um, I need to ask you not to tell anyone else I'm seeing Craig. Have you told anyone else already?”

 

“Well, we all know,” Jie answers. “Sorry. Will you get in trouble?”

 

“I hope not. But even if I do, I'm sure he's worth it.”

 

“You better believe it, buster. I'll go tell him that you're here.”

 

Oscar pokes his head around the curtain blocking off the erotic books and waves at Luke. “Come to arrest us all, have you?”

 

“If you're lucky.”

 

“Only if your boss lends you her handcuffs, eh?”  

 

“Perhaps we can use yours,” Luke retorts.

 

“Play nicely children,” Craig says from behind him. “Would you like to come upstairs, Constable? It's more private.”

 

Oscar waggles his fingers at Luke. “See you later, DC Ashton.”

 

“Cheeky git,” Luke mutters as he follows Craig upstairs.

 

“You don't spend enough time around teenagers.”

 

“How do you mean?”

 

Craig looks over his shoulder at Luke and smiles. “He fancies you.”

 

“Me? What the hell are you putting in the water here?”

 

Craig walks into the flat and closes the door behind Luke. “It's not that surprising. You're quite fanciable.” He tilts his head and looks at Luke closely. “You're here on business?”

 

“Afraid so.”

 

Craig sits down on the couch with Luke beside him. “Okay. I suppose I should be grateful it's just you here and not your boss.”

 

“She likes you.”

 

“Could have fooled me!”

 

“She only gives nicknames to people she likes,” Luke explains.

 

“Another Peanuts character?”

 

“No, 'Paddington' actually.”

 

Craig frowns and shakes his head. “Paddington? I'm not from London.”

 

Luke smiles as he turns on his computer pad. “Not the station, the bear.”

 

“Paddington Bear,” Craig repeats. “Funny, I'm sure there are no bears in darkest Wales.”

 

“It was that or Winnie-the-Pooh, and then we'd have to put up with jokes about you wandering around wearing nothing but a t-shirt.”

 

“Well I'm grateful at least she has me in a duffel coat.”

 

“The better to flash me with.”

 

“Where is she anyway?”

 

“We've made an arrest. She's gone to search the house,” Luke explains. “That's partly why I'm here. I need to know everyone who knows you're on trank10.”

 

“Well, everyone on the stag night knows I was on something that reacted with the alcohol. My brother certainly knows.”

 

“What about Drew, did he know?” Luke asks.

 

“Oh, yes, certainly.” Craig smiles slightly. “He was there at the time.”

 

“Ah, right.”

 

“He was trying to stop me apparently. Worrying that I was acting so out of character. He was a bit of a mother hen, before the drugs.”

 

“Nothing wrong with that,” Luke says with a smile. “Didn't he realise what had happened? He was a doctor after all.”

 

“Paediatrician in training, not really his field. He tore strips out of me when I'd recovered, and we knew what had happened.”

 

“Glad to hear it. So, Drew and your brother. Names of the other people on the stag night.”

 

“Tom Dickens, Mohammed Syed, uh… Pete Golding, Rhodri Llewellyn.”

 

“That's all?” Luke asks, looking up from his computer pad. “Small group.”

 

“Mark's like me, small group of close friends rather than masses of people you don't know well.” Craig scratches his nose. “The police at the time knew, my solicitor knew, the medical staff all knew. Good stretch of people to go at I'm afraid.”

 

“Did Drew ever bring home any medical friends?”

 

Craig blows out his cheeks. “Bring them home, I don't know. I met some of them, sure. A couple of girls, Jenny… Babbington, and Chloe Brown. There was a lad uh… Dan Mitchell, I think his name was.”

 

“I'll check with the hospital. St Jude's you said?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Can you think of anyone else at all who'd have known?” Luke asks.

 

“No. I've been wracking my brains, but I can't think of anyone else at all.”

 

“Right.” Luke draws a line under something on his computer pad. “Moving on to Henry and the fake emails.”

 

“Uh huh.”

 

“Did anyone else receive them? Or just Jie?”

 

“Just… Jie, I think. Certainly nobody else mentioned it. I wouldn't have expected them to anyway to be honest,” Craig answers.

 

“Oscar would though, surely?”

 

“Oh no, he's not even got an email address. He doesn't really like technology, I think he'd probably made Henry promise to write lots of letters.”

 

“That's an odd attitude from someone his age.” 

 

“Not that uncommon really,” Craig says with a shrug. “There's a lot of anti-technology/new pagan/back to earth types in most universities these days.”

 

“Oh, fair enough then.”

 

“You think it's significant that Jie was emailed?” Craig asks.

 

“I don't know. Jane wanted me to ask, in case it was. We've got lots of evidence; we're just trying to work out how it fits together. We've made an arrest, based on a couple of pieces of evidence but…”

 

“You don't think it's the right arrest?”

 

“Jane doesn't. I follow the evidence, but she's more intuitive.”

 

“She really is an old-fashioned copper, isn't she?” Craig laughs. “Do you know she told Oscar that she'd killed someone in cold blood?”

 

“She did.”

 

Craig raises his eyebrows. “Should I be worried?”

 

“She used to be in the firearms unit,” Luke says. “Jane's team got called out to a high school where there was a gunman. They didn't have a positive ID, and they didn't know where he was among all the kids hiding out. They sent the firearms unit into the school in pairs. Jane and her partner spotted the gunman; he was clearly delusional, and randomly firing at everything in sight. They split up and circled around. He got her partner with a random ricochet. The gunman hadn't even seen him.”

 

“So she took him out?”

 

“She identified herself and ordered him to drop his weapon. He was raving, barely aware that she was there let alone what she was saying. She gave him a count of three and then killed him. He was a schizophrenic off his medication they found out after,” Luke says.

 

“She must've been cleared during the inquiry though. Otherwise she'd have never made it to DI.” 

 

“Oh yeah, but she decided it wasn't for her.” Luke shrugs and crosses his legs at the ankle. “CID is much more her speed.”

 

“I shouldn't worry that she'll come after me with a shotgun the first time we have a row?”

 

“No,” he says firmly. “Definitely not a shotgun, they're far too imprecise. A sharpened stiletto heel, possibly.”

 

“Can I see you tonight?”

 

“That was a smooth segue,” Luke says with a grin.

 

“I'm not clever enough for those. I can only just cope with asking handsome men if they want to come around for a drink.”

 

“Men, plural?”

 

“Not in this case, no,” Craig says severely. “Come by at around eight?”

 

“As long as Jane doesn't have me using the thumbscrews on our suspect.”

 

The telephone trills and Craig picks it up. “Hello? Hi Oscar. Okay, no, just five minutes.” He puts the phone down and shrugs at Luke. “My solicitor’s here. All the paperwork about Drew's death to sort out.”

 

“Ah, I'll make myself scarce and see how they've got on with their search.” Luke follows Craig downstairs. “I hope you've now put a lock on wherever you keep your CCTV footage.”

 

“One of those keypad jobs. Oscar complains he can't remember the code,” Craig says sadly.

 

“Bless his tiny heart.”

 

“So young to be so sour,” Craig laughs, walking out into the shop.

 

“I'll see you tonight,” Luke says, waving a hand at him as he leaves.

 

***

 

In Louis's house Jane turns away from the photographs plastering the wall and answers her mobile. “Safardin? Hi Linus, how's your sex toy? Good, fill me in with the details first thing tomorrow. I'm going to be here for a while. Can you chase up the forensics on James Fowler? See if there's any determination of the height of the shooter. And then go home. Shoo okay?”

 

She turns back to the wall and shakes her head at the photographs of Luke covering it. “Hey, cute techie, what's your name?” she calls.

 

A young black man looks around uncertainly. “Me? Ma'am?”

 

“Yeah, you. What's your name?”

 

“Christopher Mason. Uh, is there a problem, Ma'am?” 

 

Jane pushes her hair back. “Nothing quick reporting wouldn't help. You get where I'm going, Christopher?”

 

“I… I'll run the results myself as soon as I get back to the lab. I hope that's okay?”

 

“Works for me.” She says. “Hmm, you’ve got good muscle tone there.”

 

***

 

DC Hameed picks up the evidence bag and turns it over. “This cheap piece of tat yours?”

 

Luke snatches it back. “It's in an evidence bag. Of course it isn't mine.”

  

“Ooh. Touchy”.

 

“At least I'm not grabby.”

 

“So, is it Louis's camera?” Hameed grins.

 

“No, it was found at the Buchanan crime scene. Why would it be Louis's camera?” Luke asks suspiciously.  

 

“You're kidding? Safardin hasn't told you?”

 

“Irfan, for crying out loud just tell me, okay?”

 

The other man sits down and lowers his voice. “They found hundreds of photos of you at Louis's place. All over the walls, and in folders and stuff. Even some videos from the forensics Christmas party. That time someone spiked the punch.”

 

“Right. I see.”   

 

“Sorry to be the bearer of bad news,” Hameed says insincerely.

 

Luke stands up and gathers his things together. “I appreciate you telling me. And in the same spirit I think I should tell you that I know you told DI Safardin that you want my job.”  

 

“She does have the best clear-up rate in the division.”

 

“No, Irfan. _We_ have the best clear-up rate in the division. Since I became her bagman, her clear-up rate has gone up. So don't try climbing into my shoes until your feet are big enough.” Luke spins on his heel and marches away.

 

***

 

A nervous looking young officer clears his throat. “Ma'am, uh, DC Ashton just arrived.”

 

“I don't know why I bother giving him orders,” she mutters, throwing her arms up. “I say don't come here, I say go home, and what does he do? He comes here.” She stalks outside where Luke is getting out of his car. “Oi! What're you…” and then she sees his face. She sighs and jerks her head. “Over here.” She walks over to the corner of the garden with him. “Who told you?”

 

“Irfan.”

 

“Bastard. Time he learnt that being a big stirrer isn't the way into my good books.” She puts a hand on his forearm. “I don't want you going in there. It's creepy as all get-out.” 

 

“There are photographs of me?”

 

“Luke…”

 

“You only call me that when it's really serious.”

 

“Well, this seems to meet the description.” Jane crosses her arms. “There're photographs, and a video of the forensics Christmas party. In part of the video you and I are very much the worse for wear. You're extremely upset and crying your heart out.”

 

“I don't remember that. What was I crying about?”

 

“The boy you lost, naturally.”

 

“Aw, hell.” Luke rubs his forehead. “Enough to identify Craig?”

 

“That he was a sergeant at Sun Hill with you, that he left a while before you did, and that he'd been beaten up. It was enough because there are cuttings about the assault on your man. It's persuasive.”

 

“You think he killed all these people because of me?” Luke asks quietly.

 

Jane rubs his back. “Evidence says so.”

 

“I got a blow job from a bloke at the gym, why wouldn't Louis go after him?”

 

Jane scratches her forehead. “It might be _about_ you, but it's definitely Gilmore he's out to get. So far there's nothing to suggest that he'd go after a victim that he couldn't blame on Gilmore. Ergo, your gym buddy gets away. Plus, of course, how would Louis know about him?”

 

“Yeah, I guess,” Luke says with a sigh.

 

“You thought maybe it was a sign that Louis wasn't responsible?” Jane says kindly.

 

“I should be glad I guess. I hate to think I might be to blame for more deaths.”

 

“Hey, this is not your fault.” Jane pokes him with her finger. “You hear me? If Louis did this then the only person responsible is him.”

 

“Do you think he did it? Really?”

 

“I think Louis might _maybe_ stab you when you turn him down. And then stab himself.”

 

Luke's eyes widen. “You do?”

 

“Maybe, but cold blooded, premeditated murder? I don't see it.” She shrugs. “But who am I to argue with evidence?”

 

“Jie identified him as being at the shop the other day. She recognised his photograph.”

 

“Stupid prat. Did you find out who knew about the trank10?”

 

“Yeah, Craig's brother, their mates, the medical staff, Drew.” Luke runs a hand through his hair. “In theory Drew could've told Louis about it.”

 

“Very neat.”

 

“You like someone else for it?” Luke asks.

 

“Not sure. Got an idea but no evidence. What about the email thing?”

 

“Oscar doesn't have email. He's a technophobe.”

 

“You know, I'm not really surprised. Now be a good boy and blow, okay? You're distracting the techies.” She kisses his forehead.

 

“Yes, Ma'am.”

 

***

 

Louis, red eyed and haggard, looks down at the photographs spread across the table. “You searched my place?”

 

“Of course, what d'you expect?”

 

“I didn't do this.” He scrubs at his eyes with the palm of his hand.

 

“You didn't follow DC Ashton around, taking photographs? You didn't steal this video of him, and use it to find Mr Gilmore?”

 

“Yeah, I mean I did _that_ ,” he stumbles to explain.

 

“Oh, okay, I'm glad we got that cleared up then,” Jane says acidly.

 

“I didn't kill anyone! Why would I kill anyone?”

 

“Well, I don't actually have to prove _why_. But, since you mention it, Gilmore is Ashton's ex. Someone, apparently you, is working very hard to frame him for these deaths.”

 

“It wasn't me!” Louis starts to weep quietly. “It wasn't me.”

 

***

 

“I'm glad I had you come over tonight,” Jane says idly. “I've had a crappy day.” She crosses her legs and takes a sip from her glass of wine. “Too low.”

 

Aaron, lying across the bottom of the bed with Jane's legs resting on his back, tucks his arms under his torso so that it raises a little.

 

“Better,” she remarks, changing the channel on the television, and then eating a chocolate from the box on the pillow.

 

***

 

“It's probably best if we're not seen together until all this is sorted,” Craig says, letting Luke into the flat.

 

“Tell me about it,” Luke mutters.

 

“Eh?”

 

“Oh, Jane was worried that I might become a target if it gets out we're seeing each other. She's not convinced that we have the right man in custody.”

 

“That's a worrying thought.”

 

“Yeah, she'd have to find a new bagman and _everything_ ,” Luke jokes.

 

“You don't mind taking things slow then?”

 

“No, not at all.” Luke smiles shyly. “I like the whole 'getting-to-know-you' thing. It's romantic.”

 

Craig squeezes his hand. “I've got some wine and cheese, if you fancy it?”

 

“Sounds good.”

 

***

 

Aaron carries the wine glass and box of chocolates out on a tray. He trips over one of Jane's boots, and a couple of chocolates bounce out of the box and on to the floor. He gives her a look of mute apology and puts the glass and chocolate away in the kitchen. He returns to the bedroom and gets down on all fours to retrieve the dropped chocolates.

 

“Nice bum,” Jane says with a smile. She stares at him and the smile vanishes. “Oh… I am _so_ stupid!”

 

He looks back, head tilted. “I'm sorry?” he asks uncertainly.

 

“Not you, me.” She gets up and starts unlacing her corset. “This little thing has been bugging me _for days,_ and when does the answer come? When I'm looking at your bum!” She slaps his bottom and starts pulling on underwear.

 

“Are you leaving, Ma'am?”

 

“I can't relax knowing it's probably there. Full of who knows what. I've got my skeleton keys.” She points at him. “You didn't hear me say that.”

 

“No, Ma'am.” Aaron shifts uneasily.

 

“What? Was the glass dildo too cold?” she asks gently.

 

“Oh, no Ma'am. But…” He lifts up the tray a little indicating the glass.

 

Jane presses a hand to her forehead. “Two glasses. You're right; I'm probably over the limit.”

 

“I could drive you, Ma'am,” Aaron offers.

 

Jane checks her watch. “Well, it won't take long. Are you sure you don't mind?” She takes in his confused expression. “This isn't part of the sex. This is just… my life.”

 

“I know that.” He smiles shyly. “I'll just get dressed.”

 

***

 

Luke giggles, and tries to disentangle Craig's hand from his hair. “I really… mmm,” he kisses the older man again. “I really have to go, or I'll never get up in the morning.”

 

“I can help you with that.”

 

“No, seriously.”

 

“Okay, okay.” Craig sits up and helps Luke sit up on the couch. “I'll ring you a cab.”

 

“Nah, I'm good. I only had one glass. If I get a taxi I'll be stuffed getting to work tomorrow morning.”

 

“Ring me when you get home, okay?”

 

“Yes, Dad,” Luke says, saluting.

 

“Little perv,” Craig says, slapping his bottom.

 

Luke leers at him and gets up. He fetches his jacket as Craig gets up and unlocks the door.

 

“I'll call you tomorrow,” Luke promises.

 

“You'll call me when you get home!”

 

“And tomorrow,” Luke says, kissing him. “As well as when I get home.” He walks out to the car and turns to see Craig upstairs at a window, waving at him. He smiles up and blows a kiss.

 

***

 

Jane opens the car door and pauses. “Will you be all right in the car?”

 

Aaron looks out at the groups of teenagers on the street corners. “Yes?”

 

“You better come with me. If the murderer comes in after me then… trip him up or something.”

 

“Someone was killed here?” he asks, following her to the flat.

 

“A young lad.”

 

“It's a b-bit horror film-ish,” he says sheepishly.

 

Jane opens the door with one of her skeleton keys. “I'm not blonde so we should be okay.” She winks at him and slips inside. The lights take a moment to flicker on, buzzing and whistling in the dark. She makes her way to the kitchen and goes down onto her hands and knees. She reaches underneath the kitchen cupboards: dust, scraps of – urgh -- food, and something small, rectangular and plastic. She pulls out the memory card, brushes off the dust, and grins.

 

***

 

There is a car on the side of the road. The driver's door is open, the hazard lights are on, and the bonnet is up. Luke pulls over and gets out of his car.

 

“Having trouble? Oh hi, funny how you bump into people, isn't it?”

 

***

 

Craig gets into bed. He flips open his mobile and taps in a number. He rolls his eyes as it rings and rings. “Luke,” he says when it goes to voicemail. “You didn't ring me, and you're not answering. I'm starting to worry, okay? If you don't ring me in the next half hour then I'm going to ring your boss and get _her_ to roust you. I'm not kidding, Luke. Half an hour.”

 

***

 

“Sorry for dragging you out.” Jane buckles her seat belt.

 

“It was exciting,” Aaron says with a smile.

 

“That's me, life on the edge.” She weighs the memory card in her palm.

 

“I've left my wallet at your place,” he says apologetically.

 

“That's okay. I know I said you should stay over.” Jane turns the card over and over in her fingers. “Besides I might have to pick your brains on photo retrieval.”

 

***

 

Oscar is woken by a ringing phone. He drags himself out of bed and staggers over to the phone. “Hello?”

 

“Oscar, it's me. I need you to do something for me.”

 

“Mr Gilmore, it's…” he pauses and squints at the clock. “It's too late to be this early!”

 

“I need you to do a locator spell. It's important. How long will it take?”

 

Oscar rubs his eyes with his free hand. “Now?” he asks plaintively.

 

“Yes!”

 

“Do you have something of the person’s?” Oscar yawns.

 

“Shit, no.”

 

“Oh. Was it someone who was just there?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“If you can remember exactly where the person was, I can do it there,” Oscar offers.

 

“I'll come and get you,” Craig says firmly, and puts the phone down.

 

Oscar stares at the phone for a couple of seconds, and then puts it back on the stand. He sleepily pulls on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt and shuffles into a pair of trainers.

 

“Better pay me over-time,” Oscar mutters.

 

***

 

“Don't listen.” Jane warns.

 

Aaron just rolls his eyes and carries on rubbing her shoulders.

 

“Linus,” she says into the phone. “It's bad enough Paddington’s refusing to answer his landline, without you not answering your mobile or your landline too. You better be having absolutely phenomenal sex. Anyway, I found the missing memory card from Henry's camera. Guess what? Henry took the photos of Drew and Louis screwing. I guess that he figured he’d help Craig out by digging up some dirt and passing it on anonymously. One more minor mystery solved. There are also a whole bunch of Henry dressed up for playtime. Pure must’ve taken them when he was cleaning up the flat. Our boy Pure obviously didn't realise the snaps were safely on the card.” Jane stretches and grins. “We'll pick him up tomorrow. No point in running around tonight. Besides we'll be able to check the DNA and fingerprints tomorrow. And Linus, you won't believe whose reflection made it into one of the photos.”  

 

***

 

Oscar pulls on his seat belt and yawns. “What's happening?”

 

“I think something might have happened to Luke.”

 

“Who?”

 

“DC Ashton.” Craig slams his foot on the accelerator and the car shoots off.

 

“What? Why?”

 

“Because he said he was going to ring me when he got home, he hasn't, and he's not answering his phone.”

 

“He went home and won't speak to you?” Oscar raises his eyebrows. “Maybe he's dumping you.”

 

“That occurred to me. That's why I rang you rather than the police. I don't have any evidence. I want you to do a locator for him. If he's at home, then fine. Otherwise, I'm ringing the police.”

 

“He's a grown-up. What do you think might've happened?”

 

“He thought, at least his boss thought, that the killer might come after him if he knew Luke was seeing me.” Craig scowls at the flashing lights up ahead. “What the hell is that?”

 

“Must've been an accident. We can cut through Mascalin and go around I think.”

 

Craig slams the car into reverse, spins around, and turns down Mascalin road.

 

“Why would the killer go after DC Ashton for sleeping with you?” Oscar asks quietly. “Because of the thing with Drew?”

 

“There was another murder, earlier. Another man I knew.”

 

“Like, biblically 'knew'?” He smothers another yawn. “I'm glad we never slept together.”

 

Craig snorts and shakes his head.

 

They turn a corner. Ahead of them a car is parked askew in the road.

 

“That looks like…”

 

Craig slams on the brakes, jumps out the car, and runs over to the parked car. Oscar trails out after him.

 

“FUCK!” Craig bellows, thumping the car with his fists.

 

Oscar snaps off the windscreen wiper.

 

“What the hell are you doing?”

 

“With something of his it's the easiest magic there is. I don't think he'll mind.” Oscar closes his eyes and takes deep, slow breaths. After a couple of seconds, a glowing silver ball of mist rises out of his hands. “We can follow in the car.”

 

“Oscar, this is dangerous and…”

 

“NO!” Oscar's eyes flash black. “This man killed Henry, you will NOT leave me behind!”

 

***

 

Jane picks up the ringing phone, and absently ungags Aaron. “Linus, it's about bloody time you rang. Been gangbanging all night I suppose?”

 

“It's Craig Gilmore. Luke left here two hours ago, and his car is abandoned just around the corner from the shop. He's not answering his phone.”

 

“Right.” Jane closes her eyes.

 

“He's somewhere up west, but I'll know more soon.”

 

“How do you know that?”

 

“You can get a lock on his phone and find him, can't you?” Craig pleads.

 

“Yes, eventually. Don't worry, Craig. I know who's done this.” She hangs up, and immediately rings another number. “This is DI Jane Safardin. I need a public information report absolute A1 priority.” 

     

***

 

“Can't we make it go any faster?” Craig asks.

 

“I don't know! I'm only a level two, reconstructing spells is at least level six!”

 

“Look I'm sorry, okay? I'm stressed,” Craig says quickly.

 

“Me too!” Oscar wails. “You think I want to get there too late?”

 

“Take breaths, okay? You're making the… thing wobble.”

 

Oscar looks out of the car window at the silver ball of mist which is bobbing and weaving uncertainly. “Oh, sorry.”

 

“You ready?” Craig says more gently.

 

“Yes.”

 

The silver ball of mist regains its equilibrium and speeds on.

 

***

 

Jane wrenches the wheel, runs a red light, and presses down on the accelerator. “That's not good enough. I need tactical support there by the time I arrive.”

 

“They're covering a riot,” the woman on the speaker phone protests.

 

“Just one van. This is one nutter with a copper held hostage. I'm not asking for the world you know.”

 

“You're not even sure that this is where DC Ashton is being held.”

 

“I've been to the home and work addresses. This is the last place. I'm going to be there in fifteen minutes. Get me the tactical.” She switches off the phone and thumps the steering wheel.

 

***

 

Oscar is hanging out the window of the car as they spin around a corner. “Left, left!”

 

“Sit down!”

 

“I can't see properly then. Drive faster!”

 

“You haven't got your seatbelt on,” Craig replies, but increases speed. 

 

“Well don't crash then,” Oscar retorts.

 

***

 

Jane drives past the house and parks around the corner. It is the only house on the street with any lights on. She drums her fingers on the steering wheel. No tactical support there or anywhere to be seen.

 

“Linus, if you're not okay in there I'm going to bloody kill you,” she mutters before getting out of the car. She goes to the boot of the car and gets out the jack before checking that her trainer laces are tightly tied. She quietly makes her way along the pavement and into the back garden of the house next to the one she is aiming for.

 

She climbs over the wall and crawls on her hands and knees, awkwardly holding the jack, past the blazingly well-lit kitchen window. She cautiously stands up, scanning the kitchen through the window. Nobody in sight. Jane takes the skeleton keys out of her jogging pants and carefully begins trying keys. The lock gives, and she slowly opens the door.

 

She leaves the door ajar, slips the keys back into her pocket, and edges over to the other door. Voices are audible from further in the house. She weighs the jack in her hand, and edges out into the corridor. All the lights are on, stark white. A door is open partway along the corridor. Jane edges up to it and glances through.

 

The door is pulled open, and a man shoots her twice. Jane stumbles backwards and collapses against the wall.

 

***

 

“It's stopped outside that house,” Oscar announces.

 

“Right,” Craig says grimly. He drives past and parks the car further on. They both get out of the car. “Oscar…”

 

The young man silently walks to the back of the car, pops the boot, and pulls out an enormous sword. He turns, faces Craig, and raises an eyebrow. “Yes?”

 

“You go around the back,” Craig surrenders. He collects a sword for himself and shuts the boot.

 

Oscar nods, and disappears around the back of the house. Craig takes a deep breath and marches up to the front door. He smashes in a glass panel with the hilt of the sword and reaches in to unlock the door.

 

***

 

“This is rather boring. Three the same way.”

 

Luke doesn't respond, still staring blankly out of the partly open door.

 

The other man puts the gun down and wanders off to a set of ornamental knives on the wall.

 

“I could slit your throat? I always wondered how you actually do that.” He takes out one of the knives and weighs it in his hand. “Do you think it's worse if it's sharp or blunt? It's probably a lot more sawing if it's blunt.” He grins at the sound of breaking glass. “Front door, now that _must_ be Craig surely.” He grabs Luke and hauls him over to the side, leaving the gun on the other side of the room. “Craig?” he calls. “Is that you? We're in the lounge. You've got ooh, thirty seconds before I dig DC Ashton's heart out.” He lowers his voice and presses his mouth to Luke's ear. “Too melodramatic, you think?”

 

***

 

Craig almost drops the sword. He pulls off his jacket and wraps it around Jane's shoulders. She nods silently at the open doorway. He presses his mobile into her hand. “Call 999,” he whispers as he stands up and taps on the door.

 

“Come in!”

 

Oscar walks out of the kitchen with his sword raised warily. His eyes bulge as he notices Jane. Craig makes a 'stay there' gesture as he walks into the lounge and manages to push the door shut with his foot as he does.

 

Luke meets his eyes and tries to smile defiantly. 

 

“David,” Craig says numbly.

 

“Surprise. Who's your friend?”

 

“Friend?”

 

“The dead red-head. You must've practically stepped over her,” David says suspiciously.

 

“Oh. DI Safardin. The insane detective. I told you about her,” Craig answers.

 

“Oh, that's right, you did. Well, you must be pleased then. See what I do for you? By the way, if you don't put down the cutlery then I'll slit him from ear to ear.” He presses the knife against Luke's throat.

 

Luke tenses further but doesn't move.

 

“Okay, I'm putting it down. There's no need to hurt Luke. It's me you're angry at, isn't it?”

 

“He is _quite_ annoying with his perky little smile and tight arse. The rest of us have to keep putting ourselves out there: clubs, blind dates, and internet dating sites. A constant hamster wheel of trying and failing to connect with someone. And when we do find someone special, what happens? They’re only interested in the pretty, dumb twinkie.”

 

“I understand that you're hurt…”

 

“Really Craig, I expect more from you. I'm not hurt. I'm a sociopath, my emotions are shallow by definition. I'm annoyed,” he elaborates.

 

Craig's mouth opens and closes a couple of times. “You're killing people because you're annoyed?”

 

“Well, that, and it's fun. Although I ruined several perfectly good saws hacking up Drew's body.”

 

The door opens a little.

 

“What about Louis?” Luke asks.

 

“What’s that, petal?” David asks.

 

“Why did you get Louis involved?”

 

“Who’s he talking about?” David asks Craig.

 

“I don’t know,” Craig says, talking at Luke. “Is that the arrest you mentioned?”

 

“Louis Bridges, the man in the photographs that Henry took.”

 

“Oh, was that Henry?” David asks. “I did suspect so.” He looks at Craig. “He probably thought he’d get in your good books.”

 

“Louis was the other man,” Luke explains. “Do you mean you didn’t know him?”

 

“Not from Adam. Friend of yours?”

 

“Pathologist,” Luke says.

 

David laughs, a little snigger in the back of his throat. “Oh, excellent.”

 

“The police are on their way, David. Safardin told them she was on her way here. If you let Luke go now, you can probably get clear before they arrive.”

 

“Yeah, but you know I'm more of a live in the moment person. And really, I'd feel like a fraud if I went to all the bother of killing James, and Henry, for having a one-night stand but let this one wriggle away.”  

 

“Henry was a little unfair, don't you think? He was just a kid with a crush. You convinced him to drug me, didn't you?” Craig asks. 

 

Oscar crawls on his hands and knees through the door.

 

“Please, Henry was _worse_ than you. But blowing you did manage to drum in to him what anyone with half a brain knew all along. He _finally_ realised that he was in love with his little Thai boy. Hallelujah, praise the lord, hang up the bunting! Someone that stupid deserves all they get. Plus, rape by proxy? Almost all the fun, and none of the sexually transmitted diseases!”

 

Oscar grabs the gun, stands, and aims shakily at David. “Let him go!”

 

“Nah, don't think so, cupcake. You shoot me, and you’ll also be shooting him.”

 

“Oscar, this isn't helping,” Craig pleads.

 

“He killed Henry! I should… I should!”

 

“Please don't,” Luke says quietly. “Trust me, Oscar, you'll regret it.”

 

The door opens. Jane stands in the doorway. One hand clutching her side as the blood continues to soak through her shirt.

 

“Wow, and I thought _I_ was melodramatic,” David says.

 

Jane makes her way over to Oscar. She sags back against the wall next to him and holds out her hand. “Give me the gun, kid.”

 

“He k…”

 

“SHUT UP AND GIVE ME THE FUCKING GUN!”

 

Oscar almost throws the gun at her, and she aims it evenly at David.

 

“Now go outside and wait for the tactical unit and the ambulance.”

 

Oscar glances at Craig. Craig nods and Oscar leaves, glancing back at them as he goes.

 

“Now that it's just us grown-ups,” Jane says, straightening. “We all know that there's only one way this is going to end, yes?”

 

“Why, Detective, is this where you talk me into surrendering?”

 

“No.” Jane's breathing is getting painful. “This is where we go through the motions. You could surrender, but you won't. Either you'll kill Luke, and then I'll kill you, or I'll shoot now and kill you both. But I'm a good girl, so I'm going to do this by the book, and give you a count of three to put down the knife.”

 

“You'll kill him,” David says with a tinge of worry.

 

“He's dead already. One.”

 

Craig tenses, but he's too far away. Luke meets his eyes for a brief moment.

 

“Two.”

 

Luke wrenches to the side, and Jane fires. The two men crash to the ground.

 

“Three,” she says under her breath.

 

“FUCK!” Luke screams. “You shot my ear!”

 

“You should've got your giant potato head out of the way!”

 

Craig grabs Jane and helps her onto the sofa. “There better be an ambulance on the way, lady.”

 

“Yes, Sir.”

 

He moves over to Luke and kisses his forehead. “Take your hand away and let me see how bad it is.” Blood's pouring down the side of his neck, leaking between his fingers.

 

“How's Jane?” Luke asks quietly.

 

“Lost a fair bit of blood, but it's only a .22. If the ambulance gets here quickly there won't be anything to worry about.” Craig peels Luke's hand away and tuts.

 

“Do I have much left?”

 

“You might find it difficult to wear an earring. Which is no bad thing.” Craig folds up a handkerchief and presses it to Luke's ear. “Apart from that? No problem.” He moves over and checks David. “He's dead.”

 

“Better be nice to me, Linus,” Jane wheezes. “Got to go through another damned inquiry.”

 

***

 

Jane is loaded up onto a trolley. She waves a hand at Craig. “Paddington! I need you to do me a favour.”

 

“l don't think the hospital would appreciate me fetching your best bondage nightie.”   

 

“My lover’s at my place. Can you ring and let him know that I'm okay? You know the number, right?” she calls as she's loaded into an ambulance.

 

“Yeah, okay!” Craig calls back. He returns to Luke, shaking his head. “She thinks being shot twice is 'okay'?” 

 

“In Jane world? Yeah, probably. I'm surprised she even remembered the bloke was there.” 

 

An ambulance man clears his throat. “Ready, Mr Ashton?”

 

“Yeah.” Luke squeezes Craig's hand. “I'll see you soon.”

 

Craig watches as Luke is loaded into an ambulance and driven off.

 

Oscar walks over, and squints at the departing vehicle. “Why wouldn't they let you go with them?”

 

“They would, but I have to move my car. There's not enough room for all the police officers, forensics, and coroner’s officers as it is.”

 

“You should have said. I'd be happy to drive your car back.”   

 

“Yes. l bet you would! Come on, let's get you home.”

 

They get into Craig's car, and Oscar pulls on his seatbelt.

 

“Oh. _Now_ you put it on?”

 

“He said something about rape,” Oscar says quietly, watching the older man closely. “What did that mean?” 

 

Craig licks his lips and adjusts his grip on the steering wheel. “Do you think that Henry would've ever raped someone?”

 

“No.”

 

Craig glances at him. “Do you think I would?”

 

Oscar shifts in his seat. “No.”

 

“It wasn't what he made it sound like. Not at all.”

 

“That's what I thought,” Oscar agrees. “Um, so, what was it then?”

 

Craig chews his lip. “David lied to Henry. He persuaded him that if he put something in my drink then I'd relax and be more amenable. And I must have been because… well.”

 

Oscar covers his mouth with his hand.

 

“Henry was naïve. Misled. He was a little too trusting for his own good.”

 

Oscar stares down at his hand, twisting in his lap. “He was. I told him, he believed people too much. He said I was too cynical.”

 

Craig squeezes his hand. “He loved you.”

 

“So the homicidal maniac says,” Oscar snorts.

 

“I think that was the truth. Henry got the unobtainable, found out it wasn't all that great, and realised what he already had.”

 

“It's a nice idea,” Oscar says unwillingly. “Too late though.”

 

Craig ruffles his hair, and Oscar smiles slightly.

 

***

 

Luke yawns hugely as Craig walks into the curtain area. The nurse, sewing Luke's ear, glances briefly at Craig and returns to the task at hand.

 

“I may never hear again.”

 

“Oh rubbish.” Craig sits next to him and takes his hand. “It's just a flesh wound.”

 

“Don't be mean. I got shot; I deserve some pampering at the very least.”

 

“Oh pampering, absolutely. I can do that.”

 

Luke catches Craig's hand. “Are you angry with me?”

 

“You nearly got yourself killed,” Craig says quietly. “How long have you been a copper? Driving off with a possible murder suspect when nobody knows where you are.”  

 

“He was pointing a gun at me at the time,” Luke says meekly. “And I did manage to wedge his business card under the tire so Jane would know who had me. How did you know where I was?”

 

“Went out looking for you and found your car,” Craig says, hoping it will pass for an answer. “I don't know how Safardin found you though. Maybe she secretly injected you with one of those radioactive trackers!”

 

“Maybe she's cast a spell on me!” Luke laughs. He sobers and twists his fingers together. “I hope she's okay.”

 

“She was being taken into the theatre for surgery.” Craig takes his hand and squeezes it. “We can come back first thing tomorrow and see her.”

 

“I didn't know I was going anywhere.”

 

“Can't stay here,” the nurse laughs. “Sorry, love, but you're walking wounded.”

 

“Oh,” Luke says quietly.

 

“Why don't you sleep at mine tonight,” Craig offers. “I'll look after you.” He meets Luke's eyes and they both smile. “I won't let your ear fall off, promise.”

 

“Ooh, he's a smooth talker,” the nurse says approvingly. “Right, you're all sewn up. Follow me and we'll get you booked out.”

 

“It's morning now,” Luke says, looking at his watch. “But your place sounds good.” He links arms with Craig. “Take me home then.”

 

***

 

Craig leaves Luke sleeping peacefully. He gets ready and walks down to the shop. The first thing he sees when he opens the door is Jie glaring at him.

 

“Good morning Jie, Tye.”

 

The young man nods amiably and moves to the till.

 

“You went out after Henry's killer and you didn't take me?”

 

Craig takes her through to the study room and shuts the door.  

 

“I went after Luke Ashton. I was trying to save a life. Not extract a petty revenge.”

 

The young woman bridles. “That’s not what I meant!”

 

“I'm sorry. What did you mean?”

 

“You were going into a really dangerous situation and you didn't take me.” She tilts her head. “You took Oscar! How much help was he going to be exactly? And he wanted revenge way more than me.”

 

Craig sighs and rubs his face. “Jie, I didn't decide not to take you because you wanted to kill him. Oscar and I would both have gladly done the same thing.”

 

“Then why?”

 

''Because I needed magic, not a slayer. Oscar was a huge help. Not only finding Luke but getting the gun and passing it to the detective inspector.”

 

“Oh, right,” Jie says quietly.

 

“Jie, you're very talented, and there's no one I'd rather be fighting with. But the world is full of problems that can't be solved with a stake or holy water.” He puts a hand on her shoulder. “You can't do everything. Part of being a good slayer is being able to accept what you _can't_ do, as well as what you can.”

 

“I'm not the one who ran off to tackle a serial killer with only a pint-sized trainee warlock for backup. I don't have to slay to be useful. Why can't I go after the human monsters too?”   

 

“Because that's the job of the police. And last night they did it very well.”

 

“They both got shot! One of them by the other one,” she protests.

 

“Yes, and the first year you were here you staked Tye in the arm.” Craig smiles and shrugs. “Let DI Safardin and DC Ashton have their monsters. We have enough of our own to worry about.”

  

There is a polite knock on the door.

 

“Come in,” Craig says, opening the door. “Yes, Tye?”

 

Tye nods amiably and jerks his head. “Mr Giles.” 

 

“Right. Thanks Tye. Jie, you're on the till this morning.”

 

“Yes, Mr Gilmore”, she says. 

 

Mr Giles is standing by the religious books section scanning the titles. “Your _Foxe's Martyr's_ in remarkably good condition.”

 

“I've just repaired it,” Craig answers.

 

“Really? You're done an excellent job.” He walks over to Craig. “Now that Henry's murderer has been dealt with, I'd like to discuss the review.”

 

“Of course. Please come through to the study. Can I get you some tea?”

 

“Yes, thank you.”

 

The two men settle in the study with their tea, and Craig clears his throat.

 

“I'm very sorry; I've not been as available as needed.” 

 

“Your team have all been extremely helpful,” Giles says reassuringly.

 

“Even Oscar?”

 

“Yes, even Oscar,” Giles says with a smile. “A death, related to slaying or not, can destroy a group. Raising all kinds of buried resentments can splinter everyone. But it's something that will almost certainly affect everyone sooner or later. Given the circumstances you've done a very commendable job of keeping them all together.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

“Overall, I'm very impressed. I have some detailed notes to go through, but I can tell you now that you pass the review.” 

 

***

 

 “Ow,” Luke whines, opening his eyes. He clutches his ear as he sits up. “Craig?” he calls plaintively. “What time is it?”

 

“Nine-thirty,” Craig says, walking into the room with two cups of coffee. “Jane came out of surgery and is recuperating.” He sits on the bed next to Luke. “I rang first thing.”

 

“Thanks. How's Oscar? Last night must've been rough on him.”

 

“Starting to get over Henry, I think. Or lose a little of the rose-tint anyway.”

 

“That's a shame,” Luke says quietly. “The first time you realise that the person you loved wasn't completely who you thought they were.”

 

“He's young, and he has a lot of friends who'll look after him. How are you?”

 

“Is there a word for a phobia of solicitors?”

 

“Jurisconsultusphobia perhaps?” Craig says, with a smile. “Or jurisperitusphobia.”

 

“You're so smart. I wonder what you see in me.” Luke slips his arm through Craig's.

 

“You're loyal, kind, and loving. I can talk to you like a grown-up. We can disagree without it being an issue. I find it rarer than I'd hope for.”

 

“I had no idea I was such a wonderful human being.”

 

“Basically, you make me feel like a better person.” 

 

Luke smiles, and then lifts up the covers and looks down. “Look at that, sweet speech equals a hard-on.”

 

“Do you take anything seriously?” Craig laughs.

 

“Well you know, I'm a bloke.” He pulls back the covers. “I take it so seriously that it makes me a little uncomfortable, and I have to make a joke.”

 

“It makes you uncomfortable that I love you?” Craig starts to blush. “Aah, I mean…”

 

Luke smiles, and pulls Craig into a kiss. “No. How much I love you when you say that makes me uncomfortable, because it's so… much. But it's a good uncomfortable.” He pulls Craig on top of him. “Going to let me show you how I feel?”

 

Craig pulls Luke's t-shirt up over his head and throws it to one side. “Didn't catch your ear, did I?”

 

“Nah, it fell off during the night,” Luke giggles. He tugs Craig's t-shirt up over his head. “That sword-fighting workout really works.”

 

“Glad you like it,” Craig purrs.

 

***

 

“No,” Aaron says firmly.

 

“Excuse me?” Jane asks, sitting up with one leg over the bed.

 

“You got shot twice, you should stay in b-bed.”

 

Jane raises an eyebrow. “Aaron, it was kind of you to visit and I appreciate it. And now I'm going home.”

 

“If you like I'll go and get the nurse for some painkillers.”

 

“I don't need painkillers, thank you. I'm not in pain, I'm feeling very well.”

 

Aaron sighs, and smoothes the bedclothes. “Would you like me to pick anything up for you from your place?”

 

Jane puts a hand to her forehead. “No, thank you.”

 

“Hello?” Luke calls, wandering into the room with Craig behind him. “Are you leaving?”

 

“I'm trying, and Aaron is trying to stop me.”

 

Aaron hesitates, and then kisses her cheek before leaving.

 

“Is it wise to leave so soon?” Craig asks.

 

“Jane heals really quickly,” Luke explains. “She's a freak.”

 

“Oh.”

 

“Coming from you, Linus, that's a compliment.”

 

“Thanks,” Luke says sweetly. “We're on our way to the station. We thought we better get our statements out of the way and all that.”

 

“I'll come with you.” Jane slides out of bed. “Paddington, make yourself useful and fetch a nurse, would you?”

 

Craig shares a glance with Luke and wanders off, shaking his head.

 

“You're cranky,” Luke remarks.

 

“I've only said half a dozen words.”

 

“You don't have to say anything.”

 

Jane pulls a face, and nods at the door. “He only went and asked me to collar him. Aaron, I mean. Not Paddington.”

 

“Why, what's he done?”

 

“Not collar as in _arrest_.”

 

“Oh. OH! Collaring like BDSM marriage kind of thing?” Luke checks.

 

“Yes.”

 

Luke sits by her on the bed. “Didn't think you were interested in commitment and all that.”

 

“I'm not.”

 

“You could've been killed last night. That can make people freak out a bit, you know? When he's calmed down, he'll probably have a re-think.”

 

“I should've known he was getting serious when he turned up on my door with a breakfast hamper. Why do men always take things too seriously? Why can't they ever believe that no-strings-sex is just that? I'm always upfront about it.”

 

“Immature human nature,” Luke says, patting her knee. “If you told them you want to settle down then they'd run miles. But tell them that you don't want a relationship, and suddenly they want marriage and babies.”

 

“Yeah? What's your sage advice, Obi-Wan?” Jane asks, raising her eyebrows.

 

“Find yourself a grown-up?”

 

“Like yours?”

 

“Well, no. Your grown-up would have to be about twenty-five and a sub,” Luke says with a smile. “But apart from that, yes.”

 

***

 

Jie leans on her fist and takes a sip of her coffee.

 

“Just an ordinary guy?” Evany asks.

 

“If ‘crazy nutjob’ comes under your definition of ‘ordinary’, then yes,” Jie says archly.

 

“But, human. Right?”

 

“Barely.”  

 

Evany blows out her cheeks. “Just killing for fun. Humans aren’t supposed to do that.”

 

“But we do,” Jie says quietly.

 

***

 

Craig slips his hand into Luke’s as they walk down the corridor.

 

“What’s happening outside your shop?”

 

Outside the shop Oscar and an auburn-haired young woman are chalking on the pavement.

 

“Oh, it’ll be the protective spell,” Craig says without thinking.

 

“The _what_?” Luke asks incredulously.

 

“Uh, a protective spell.” Craig rubs his forehead with his free hand. “We should probably talk.”

 

***

 

**Epilogue**

**Six weeks later**

 

Luke walks into the shop, exchanges greetings with Viv, and goes up to the flat. He lets himself in and hangs up his jacket.

 

“Hello?”

 

“Hiya,” Craig calls, sticking his head around the kitchen door. “How did it go?”

 

“She's got a board tomorrow.”

 

“What? How can she have a disciplinary board? He shot her first!” Craig says, astonished.

 

Luke sniggers. “Not disciplinary, promotion. She doesn't want promotion, but you have to go through the motions.”

 

“What about you?”

 

“Oh, don't you start.” Luke kisses Craig on the cheek as he walks into the kitchen and puts the kettle on. “It's not enough that Jane hassles me to go for DS?”

 

“Good, glad to hear it. Why don't you want to be promoted?”

 

“Too much responsibility. I'm happy as a DC.”

 

Craig slips his arms around Luke's waist. “And are you happy with other things?”

 

“Such as?” Luke leans back against him.

 

“You spend most of your time here. You even have a key. You think maybe you'd like to… spend _all_ your time here?”

 

“Are you asking me to move in?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Oh.” Luke strokes Craig's hands. “I'd love to.”

 

Craig kisses the side of his face, just reaching his chin when the phone rings. “No rest for the wicked,” he sighs. He goes to the lounge to answer the phone. “Luke,” he calls back. “Apparently Safardin is downstairs.”

 

Luke rolls his eyes and goes downstairs. Oscar is over by the erotic book section blushing as a post-graduate student talks to him. Jane wraps an arm around his shoulders.

 

“Linus, we've got a body, and you will _not_ believe where!”

 

Luke looks back at Craig and receives an indulgent smile and a kiss, blown, in response.

 

“Right,” Luke says. “Let's go then.”

 

The End

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
